Sorting Things Out
by JoeMerl
Summary: Albus' father said the Sorting Hat took choices into account, but he certainly didn't ask to be put in Hufflepuff. Scorpius, meanwhile, is having problems with his fellow Gryffindors. Was Albus' father wrong? How will their families react? And will either of them manage to get into the House where they really belong—or at least figure out where, exactly, that is? COMPLETE.
1. Snakes on a Train

**Author's Notes:** This story is probably a bit atypical, because I have my own Next Gen headcanon and like to deliberately avoid tropes that other people use. It is primarily about Albus and Scorpius, though other canon characters and a bunch of OCs play minor-but-important roles. (I tried not to use _too_ many OCs, but this chapter alone demonstrates that I failed pretty badly.) I'm mostly doing this story to explore the whole concept of the Houses, which I find pretty fascinating. If you want a spoiler for the next chapter, the story icon may reveal which House(s) our protagonists get stuck with.

This is a seven-chapter story with the rough draft already complete; thus, barring extraordinary circumstances, you should have the whole thing within a week or two. Anyway, enough stalling; I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Scorpius' mother bit her lip as she adjusted her son's robe again, clearly just trying to delay for as long as possible. "Now, remember not too eat too many sweets on the train," she said for the third time. "And behave yourself. I know you will, but...still."

"Yes, Mother." Scorpius' voice was dull from repetition, as well as the fact that he was feeling slightly queasy.

She hesitated, apparently trying to think of something else to say, but had run out of ideas. "Have a good time," she said, pulling him into a hug. "I love you."

Scorpius' father had been glancing off at the crowd, letting his wife fret, but turned back now that she was reluctantly pulling away from her son. He put an arm around Scorpius' shoulder, leaning close to speak into his ear.

"I'm sure you'll have a good time at Hogwarts," he whispered. "You're a bright boy. Show them that you inherited the Malfoy talent."

"Yes, Father."

"Try to make some friends. _Good_ friends. And...try to stay out of trouble. Alright?"

Scorpius hesitated; for a moment he wondered if his father was talking about the same kind of trouble as his mother, like sneaking out after curfew and blowing up toilets, or the _other_ kind of trouble that he had been involved in during his own school days. Scorpius decided it didn't matter. "Yes, Father."

A very small smile came to his father's lips. He reached up to ruffle Scorpius' hair (which his mother had spent ten minutes making immaculate) the slightest bit. "I'm sure you'll do fine," he murmured, more to himself than to Scorpius. "Have a good time. And good luck getting into Slytherin."

Scorpius flinched, but he had turned away so that his father couldn't see. The train's whistle blew. His father helped Scorpius bring his luggage onto the train. "Goodbye, son."

"Goodbye, Father." Neither of them hugged or said "I love you." Neither was exactly an emotional person.

A minute later the train started to move, and Scorpius sighed as his parents disappeared into the distance.

* * *

Albus watched as his parents grew smaller and smaller, finally vanishing as the Hogwarts Express rounded a corner. He let his arm fall, feeling an unpleasant twist in his stomach. It was an odd sort of mixture of excitement, sadness and fear. (Mostly the latter two.)

Most of the other students were dispersing. "We should find somewhere to sit before all the compartments are full," Rose said.

"Yeah," Albus said vaguely. He looked around. "Let's go find James."

Rose started to say something, but Albus was already trudging down the corridor with his luggage. She frowned slightly, then followed.

Albus found his brother in a few carts down, sitting with two boys in his year. James had taken out his new Nimbus 3000 and the three were all examining it excitedly. (Albus felt a stab of jealousy that first-years couldn't bring brooms.) Their conversation stopped abruptly as the door opened, and James made a face at Albus and Rose standing in the threshold.

"Sorry, we're full," one of the boys started to say, then quirked an eyebrow. "Well, hey there. This wouldn't happened to be the Little Al you've told us to much about, is he, James?"

"Yeah," Albus said before James could answer. He looked at him, trying to ignore the appraising looks of his two friends. "Can Rose and I sit here?"

James stood to put his broom back in the luggage rack, turning his face to hide a puckish grin. "I don't know…five to one compartment is a bit cramped," he said, even though there was plenty of room as far as Albus was concerned. "Maybe we could let _one_ of you stay, but…"

Rose took Albus by the wrist. She tended to have less patience for James' shenanigans. "Come on, Al. Let's just sit somewhere else."

Albus bit his lip. "Come on, James? Please?"

"_Weeeeell_…okay." Albus grinned nervously and took the empty seat beside him; Rose sat on Albus' other side, gazing at her older cousin warily. "Gavin, Evan, meet my baby brother Albus and our cousin, Rose."

"Itty-bitty first years, eh?" Gavin chuckled. "Ah, I remember those days."

"I'd hope so, it was only last year," Evan said.

"Well, anyway. I'm sure you two are going to _love_ Hogwarts. Aside from the times they're trying to educate you, it's really quite nice."

"Assuming you get into the right house," Evan added carelessly.

Albus jumped slightly. James hid a smirk behind his hand. Rose noticed it and scowled.

"Yeah," said Gavin, giving Albus' pale face a quick, furtive glance. "I mean, it must stink for the Slytherins. They have to sleep in the _dungeons,_ of all places."

"You know, they really need to clean those dungeons," James mused. "So many old bones down there."

"Nuh-uh," Albus said, but he sounded unsure.

Evan quirked an eyebrow. "What's the matter? You two aren't afraid of being put into the old Dark Wizards' club, are you?"

"Now come on, come on, be fair. These two aren't going to wind up in Slytherin," James said.

Albus smiled at him nervously. Rose gave him a suspicious look.

"…I mean, Rose's mum is Muggle-born, so there's no way they'll let _her_ in. Only _Purebloods_ like us get into Slytherin. Right Al?" he said, throwing an arm around his blanching brother's shoulders.

Gavin chortled. Rose got up, hefting her luggage and owl. "If you all are just going to spend the whole train ride making fun of us, Al and I will go sit somewhere else. Come on, Al."

Al looked slightly torn, but got up and followed his cousin out of the compartment. James and his friends continued to snicker as they left.

"I don't know _why_ you wanted to sit with them," Rose muttered as she looked into the windows of other compartments. "You know James is going to be a prat this whole trip."

"He's not always so bad," Albus muttered meekly. Then, "Who do you think we should sit with? Maybe Molly and Louis?"

"I'd rather sit with people our own age, if we can," Rose said, rejecting a nearly-empty compartment occupied by two sixth-year boys. "We don't _have_ to sit with family."

"Well—yeah, but we don't _know_ anybody else."

"So?"

Albus just squirmed uncomfortably as he followed her down the train.

* * *

Scorpius Malfoy was reading his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. Or rather, he was trying to read it; practically speaking, he was holding it up as a shield to avoid talking to anyone.

There were four other inhabitants of his compartment, all girls. Two of them were sitting together and having an animated discussion, which was so loud that Scorpius could not concentrate on his book. The other two girls sat alone: one by the door, looking bored and moody, and the other by the window, watching the scenery and occasionally giving the others nervous glances.

"Oh, I forgot to ask!" one of the talking girls, who was tall with dark hair, said. "Did you get your wand?"

"Yes, _finally,_" replied the other, a short girl with honey-blond curls. She pulled a long wooden box out of her luggage, opening it carefully. Scorpius noted that the wand inside was quite long and ornately carved. "Ash and phoenix feather, 13 inches. I'm lucky I got it in time, Daddy was afraid I'd have to start school without it—but of course, when you get them custom-made—"

"Custom-made?"

It was the girl by the window who interrupted; the others turned to them, including Scorpius. She had taken out her own wand and was looking at it quizzically. "Are you supposed to get them special? I just got mine in a store."

"Ollivanders?"

"I think so."

"Hmm…you're a Muggle-born, aren't you?"

"Well, I'm the only magical person in my family, if that's what you mean."

"I thought so," the honey-blonde girl said thoughtfully. "Well, _most_ people get them there, but my daddy always says that you have to pay extra if you want an _exceptional_ product. _Mine_ was made by Darina Doubek, one of the greatest wandmakers on the Continent. But I'm sure yours will be _fine,_" she addeds, as the other girl glanced at her wand nervously.

Scorpius looked back at his book, frowning. He had gotten _his_ wand from Ollivanders, and his parents were hardly known for being stingy.

"I'm Ludmila Neff, by the way, and this is my friend Charmian," the girl with the custom-made wand continued.

"I'm Anita Ackergill."

"Charmed," Ludmila said. "What kind of wand do _you_ have, do you know?"

"Kind? Well, let me see," Anita said, staring at it thoughtfully. "The lady who sold it to me told me—I remember it has a unicorn hair in it, and the wood is…elm, I think. And I think it's about eight-and— "

"Muggle-borns can't use elm wands," Scorpius blurted without even thinking.

The girls turned to stare at him, including the silent one in the corner. Anita frowned. "Really? Well, maybe I'm remembering wrong— "

"No, that's not true," Charmian said, shaking her head and causing her dark hair to fly around her face.

"Yes it is," Scorpius said, lowering his book and frowning. "Everyone knows that."

"No, it's not," Ludmila said. "_That's_ just an old superstition from the _Death Eater_ days."

Her tone was more haughty than accusatory, but they hit Scorpius like a slap in the face. She opened his mouth, closed it, then immediately hid behind his book again. He felt his ears burning.

The three girls went back to talking about wands, which soon turned into discussions about dress robes and school supplies (all of which Ludmila apparently had specially made) when the door opened. Scorpius looked up to see a skinny black-haired boy and a girl with reddish-brown hair. "Is there room in here for two more, by any chance?" the girl asked.

"Why of _course,_" said Ludmilla. "Make yourselves at home."

Scorpius personally thought that the compartment was full enough already, but could not think of a way to politely object. The two newcomers took their seat, forcing Scorpius to slide over and move his owl, Callidora, onto his lap. He was sitting next to the black-haired boy, who looked rather peaky. Scorpius had the distinct impression that he did not want to be in this crowded compartment either.

"I'm Rose, by the way," the new girl said as she settled herself in. "And this is my cousin, Albus." The brunet murmured a brief hello.

"Very pleased to meet you. I'm Ludmila Neff, and this is my friend, Charmian. And this is Anita." She did not bother to introduce Scorpius or the other girl, though to be fair, neither had introduced themselves either. "Are you first-years, too?"

"Yes, actually."

"Wonderful! All of us will be classmates together. What house do you two expect to be in?"

"_Gryffindor!_" Albus blurted it quickly, the way a student might answer a teacher who caught him dozing in class. "I mean…that's where we want to go, anyway," he muttered. Scorpius glanced over the top of his book curiously, catching a brief look at the boy's nervous expression.

"Oh." Ludmila sounded disappointed. "Char and I are going to be in Slytherin."

"Do you know that already?" Everyone turned to Anita, who looked just slightly pink. "I mean—I thought we didn't find out until we got there. I don't know mine yet."

"Well, we don't _really_ know until the Sorting, of course, but my mother's family has been Slytherin going back five generations. It really is the best house; Merlin was a Slytherin, you know."

Scorpius felt slightly queasy. He leaned closer to his book and tried to focus on reading, but still couldn't quite block out the unpleasant conversation.

"Well, my dad really wants me to be in Gryffindor, like he and my mum were," Rose said. She hesitated. "But then, I wouldn't really mind _too_ much if the Hat put me someplace else. Especially Ravenclaw."

Albus sounded scandalized. "But our whole family is in Gryffindor, Rose!"

"What about Louis? He's in Hufflepuff, and it's not like Uncle Bill disowned him."

The girl by the door scoffed. Everybody turned in surprise; Anita frowned. "Is there something wrong with, uh— Hufflepuffle?"

"That's the house where they put all the _useless_ people," the girl said, giving them all a disdainful look. "It's like she said—Slytherin is only for the _best_ witches and wizards."

_And the Dark ones, S_corpius thought, but he pushed that thought back down. He lowered his book and gave the girl a slight glare, which was nothing compared to the looks that Rose and even Albus shot her.

"Well, that's what people say...but I'm sure there are plenty of—_useful_ Hufflepuffs. Your cousin included," Ludmila said diplomatically.

Anita, sensing the tension, cleared her throat. "So, which House do _you_ want to get into?"

There was a moment of silence before Scorpius realized she was talking to him. He felt his face burn for a moment, then put his book down, trying to hide his nerves.

"Slytherin," he said simply. "My whole family has been there, as well."

"Oh. What's your name?" Ludmila asked.

"Scorpius. Oh—er, Malfoy. Scorpius Malfoy."

"I believe we know each other, then. Our mothers worked together on last month's fundraiser for St. Mungo's."

"Malfoy?" It was the girl by the door again; her voice had turned very hard.

"Yes?" Scorpius said. His tried to match her haughty tone, though he suddenly felt very on-edge.

"I believe _we _know each other, too, then." She threw back her black hair and gave him a fiery glare. "I'm Gallia Goyle. Our families served together in the war, until _your_ father and grandfather had _my_ father and grandfather thrown into Azkaban."

Scorpius' tensed immediately; so did most of the others, except for Anita, who just looked confused. He was acutely aware of them all looking at him, especially Gallia, whose gaze was murderous.

Finally Anita cleared her throat; thankfully she chose not to ask what would have been very awkward questions. "So, er, tell me more about these houses. The professor who brought me my letter said something about a competition with points?"

As soon as the attention was off him Scorpius gave Gallia one last look, then picked up his book and remained hidden behind it for the rest of the trip.


	2. Sorting Surprises

Albus was sincerely glad when the conversation turned away from the subject of Houses, which was making him feel distinctly uneasy. Admittedly, it was somewhat refreshing to know that Ludmila and Charmian came from Slytherin stock—they seemed nice enough, even if Ludmila came off as somewhat imperious. Still, that other girl, Gallia, was exactly the sort of Slytherin that Uncle Ron liked to talk about. As for Scorpius…well, he was harder to measure. The two of them spent the rest of the trip in silence, Gallia looking away disdainfully, Scorpius with his face hidden behind a book.

Eventually the train began to slow, then finally come to a stop at Hogsmeade Station. Albus tried to stick close to Rose as they disembarked. "Do you see James anywhere?" he asked.

"Why do you want to see James?" she asked reproachfully.

Albus had to admit that he didn't know; he supposed he wanted reassurance that James had been joking before, but it was pretty stupid to think he was going to get it. Instead he asked, "Do you see Hagrid? He's the one who takes the first years up to the castle."

"I'm trying to—there he is!" Rose cried, just as Albus heard a familiar voice calling "FIRS' YEARS!"

Smiling nervously, Albus followed Rose over to the huge man easily visible among the crowd of students. The cousins waved at him; Hagrid grinned back at them, but was clearly too busy to stop and chat. "Alrigh' now, all the firs' years 'ere? Follow me down ter the lake, we're gonna get four to a boat…"

He led the forty or so first-years to a fleet of small dinghies down at the shore. Albus and Rose climbed into a boat with Ludmila and Charmian; the two girls immediately began to talk about the Sorting again, which along with the boat ride was making Albus feel queasy. He tried to block them up, instead looking up at the castle high overhead. It was really quite beautiful; he only wished he could savor the sight without feeling like he was going to be sick.

"Are you alright, Al?"

He nodded. Rose patted his shoulder sympathetically.

"Don't worry so much. It'll be fine."

"So you're not worried at all, then?"

She smiled sheepishly. "I didn't say _that._"

The ships touched ground, and soon Hagrid was leading the troop of first-years up the castle steps, where they were met by a witch with iron-gray hair and dark eyes. She led them into the castle and through the entrance hall—which was magnificent enough to distract Albus from his nervousness—and into a chamber just off from the Great Hall. It was quite crowded inside, and Albus had to stand on his tip-toes to see over everyone's heads.

"Good evening," said the woman, casting her gaze over the group. "My name is Professor Baumgartner, Deputy Headmistress and Professor of Charms. Let me be the first to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. In a few minutes we will be begin our Start-of-Term Feast. First, however, you must all be Sorted into one of our four Houses, which you will learn about shortly. This is a simple procedure carried out by the Sorting Hat, one of our school's oldest treasures. It alone will decide which of you belongs to Gryffindor, to Hufflepuff, to Ravenclaw or Slytherin, and which of you will instead be fed to the castle dragons."

Several strangled gasps went through the crowd, including one from Albus.

"…That was a joke," Professor Baumgartner said, her mouth twitching almost imperceptively. "Now, please wait here for a few moments while the rest of the school finishes assembling in the Great Hall."

She swept out of the room, leaving the first-years alone to mutter among themselves. Albus took a deep breath. He had somehow lost Rose in the throng of students, and instead was standing beside Scorpius Malfoy. He looked even paler than usual, though his face was passive and expressionless.

Albus elbowed Scorpius lightly in the side. "Nervous?" he whispered.

"No." Scorpius was not a particularly good liar.

Albus hesitated for a moment. "You know, my dad said that the Hat listens if you tell it what you want. He said it put him in Gryffindor because he asked it to."

Scorpius was quiet for a moment. "Thank you. I'll keep that in mind."

Albus smiled slightly. Actually, reminding himself of that out loud helped make him feel calmer too. He didn't have to worry; if he didn't want to be in be in Slytherin, the Hat wouldn't put him in Slytherin. Right?

The door opened. Professor Baumgartner stuck her head in, motioning with one hand. "Follow me, please. Single-file."

The crowd assembled into a line and followed her into the Great Hall. Albus' mum had described it to him, but he was awestruck now that he actually saw it—the massive space, four bright tapestries with the House insignias, hundreds of floating candles and a starry night sky above them. And, of course, five long tables filled with teachers and students, and the acute feeling that each of them was staring at him specifically.

He looked toward the Gryffindor table, and managed to spot his relatives in the throng—Victoire was beaming while Dominique looked disinterested, and Molly was watching the group while whispering to her friends. James caught his eye and grinned—Albus was legitimately unsure if he was trying to be encouraging or mocking.

Albus looked away towards the rest of the Hall. Louis, his only non-Gryffindor cousin, had stood up from the Hufflepuff table and was flashing a thumb's-up at the whole group, until a prefect came over and made him sit down. Albus smiled, though it faltered when his eye reached the Slytherins. Well, they actually didn't look _so_ bad…nobody was smirking evilly or cursing each other from across the table like he had imagined. But still…

They came to a stop near the Head Table, right before a stool with a very old, unkempt wizard's hat. Some of the first-years muttered in excitement or confusion. The hat twitched. Albus held his breath while Scorpius made a slight choking sound. They exchanged a look; Albus forced a nervous smile while Scorpius merely bit his lip.

The hat straightened up completely, opened a tear near its rim and began to sing.

"_Our tale begins so long ago  
A thousand years or more,  
When Hogwarts was first founded  
By these great wizards four:  
Gryffindor, the brave and bold,  
Slytherin, of shrewdest mind,  
Ravenclaw, her wit renowned,  
Hufflepuff, good and kind..."_

Albus was honestly too nervous to pay the song much attention. He looked away from the singing hat, steeling himself up: _I will not be put in Slytherin. The hat will not put me in Slytherin if I don't want it to. I want to go to Gryffindor. I will not be put in Slytherin…_

"_So Gryffindor took only those  
Who sought out marvelous deeds,  
While Slytherin showed favor  
To those who let ambition lead.  
For Ravenclaw, her students' minds  
Could only be the best,  
But Hufflepuff cared fpr them all  
And took in all the rest."_

Albus closed his eyes tighter. _I will not be put in Slytherin I will not be put in Slytherin I will be put in Gryffindor I will not be put in Slytherin_—

"_…and thus ends my song,  
So don me now and find out  
To which House you belong!_"

The Great Hall burst into applause as Professor Baumgartner came forward, unrolling a scroll. All of the bravado Albus had built up died instantly.

"As I call your name, please come forward and put on the Sorting Hat. Ackergill, Anita!"

The Muggle-born girl from the train came forward nervously, placing the Hat on her head and sitting on the stool. The moment seemed to stretch on for eternity, but then—

"SLYTHERIN!"

One of the tables erupted into cheers. Albus was surprised; he had thought Slytherin didn't accept Muggle-borns. He looked over at Scorpius, who was frowning slightly.

"Bailey, Douglas!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Brocklehurst, Paula!"

Albus suddenly regretted having a "P" name—he wanted this to be over with. He tried to steady his mind again as his fellow first-years got Sorted. He was distracted when another girl from the train—"Farley, Charmian"—went up and was also declared a Slytherin. A few names later "Goyle, Gallia" joined her.

"This is good," Albus murmured, leaning toward Scorpius. "Charmian and that Gallia girl both wanted to be in Slytherin, remember?"

"Yes," Scorpius murmured, though he still looked pale.

More names and faces flew by…"Kask, Olivia" joined Gryffindor, "Llewellyn, Adrostos" became a Slytherin…"Malone, Kyle" was running off toward Ravenclaw and then—

"Malfoy, Scorpius!"

He stepped forward quickly, taking long strides up to take the stool; Albus noticed that his eyes were closed tightly before they disappeared under the Hat. A long moment passed; Albus crossed his fingers—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"_Huh?!_" Albus said stupidly as the requisite applause broke out. Scorpius took off the Hat, looking shocked himself; he stood there for a moment until Professor Baumgartner motioned toward the Gryffindor table, and he walked off slowly, looking dazed and confused.

"McNamara, Joshua!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Albus felt like his head was spinning; how could this have happened? Dad said the Hat listened—but if it sent Scorpius to Gryffindor, did that mean it would send _him_ to Slytherin, or—?

"Neff, Ludmilla!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Ludmilla looked pleased with herself as she strode off to her table. Albus took a deep breath. After all, it was still listening to…_most_ people, it seemed. Maybe he could still be in Gryffindor. And hey, then he would already have a friend in his House, other than James and his cousins. That would be nice.

"Patterson, Elijah" went to go sit next to Scorpius. Albus took a deep breath.

"Potter, Albus!"

He tried to ignore the murmurs and eyes of the crowd as he strode forward, taking his seat and letting the Hat fall in front of his eyes. It seemed to squirm slightly, fitting itself around his head.

"_Hmm,_" said a voice in Albus' ear. "What have we here? Let's see, you're a rather— "

_PLEASE DON'T PUT ME IN SLYTHERIN!_

"…Pardon?"

_Um… _Albus swallowed. _I, um…heard that you took requests— at least, that's what my dad said—I don't know if you remember him, Harry Po— _

"Yes, yes. And your point?"

_Well, um…I'd like to _not_ be put in Slytherin. If that's okay. Sir._

He felt his face burn at the Hat's silence. Finally it spoke.

"Don't listen to your brother so much, my boy. You hardly have a single Slytherin trait in your whole head. (You could use a few more, to be honest.)"

_Oh! _Albus felt a swell of relief, plus a little embarrassment. _Then, uh…can I be put in Gryffindor, please?_

"Gryffindor?" The Hat paused for a moment. "Why?"

Why? Dad hadn't mentioned a short answer portion of this test. _Because I…well, that's where my whole family is. My brother and most of my cousins are there now,_ he finished lamely.

"And you think you belong there? You think family connections give you have the courage of a Gryffindor?"

Albus didn't like where this was going. He felt a bead of sweat run down his neck and onto his robes. _Um…well, yes?_ _I mean, I—I think I belong there. I hope I do. _

"And why do you hope so?"

What did this Hat want from him?! He bit his lip. _Because I—want to be brave and stuff?_ he thought lamely.

There was another long pause from the Hat. Albus was starting to wonder how long he had been sitting here.

"Well, if _that's_ the case…better be HUFFLEPUFF!"

Albus heard a burst of cheers, but felt stunned as he took the Hat off. He slowly stood up, placing it back on the stool as he stared around the Great Hall. He wanted to believe he had simply heard wrong, but no, it was the Hufflepuffs cheering as the Gryffindors remained mostly silent. He did, however, catch sight of James and his friends leaned toward each other and talking; he felt his stomach do an unpleasant flip-flop.

He headed over to his new table, only to jump as Louis leapt up and threw an arm around his shoulder. "Way to go, Al!" he said, giving him a playful noogie. "Glad another Weasley finally joined the old black-and-yellow!"

"Congratulations!" said another girl as Louis ushered him into his seat.

"Um—thanks."

"Cheers, dude," said one of Louis friends, raising his empty goblet.

Thankfully the Sorting was still going on, so Albus was not the center of attention for more than a moment. He sank into his seat as everyone else watched "Prewett, Hippoltya" become a Gryffindor, feeling an unpleasant twisting in his abdomen.

_Hufflepuff? _Albus thought. Why _Hufflepuff?_ He had made his request like Dad said, and the Sorting Hat had…totally ignored it. It was better than being put in Slytherin, he supposed, but no one in his family had _ever_ been in Hufflepuff, except for Louis. He suddenly had a strange feeling of isolation, as if he had been irrevocably cut off from the rest of the Potter and Weasley lineages.

He thought back to what the Sorting Hat had sang—that this was the House for "the rest," the people who none of the other Founders would have wanted. The twisting in his stomach continued until he thought he was going to be sick. Everyone else in the family was a Gryffindor. Heck, his dad was _Harry Potter. _He was...he was as brave as any of them. Right?

Albus shot another look at the Gryffindor table, hoping he wouldn't be able to see James. Unfortunately, he could—and his older brother seemed to be scowling as his friend Evan poked fun at him. James' other friend, Gavin, however, was looking away. It took Albus a moment to notice he was staring at Scorpius. The blond boy, however, was pointedly looking away. He frowned, but that was only a momentary distraction from his own predicament.

There was nothing to do now but wait for Rose, though Albus wasn't sure if he should hope for her to be a Gryffindor or a Hufflepuff. He got neither wish; after a brief moment of thought the Hat declared her a "RAVENCLAW!" She seemed to be smiling as she joined her new House, but Albus frowned and put his head down on Hufflepuff table.

* * *

_What am I doing here?_

Scorpius sat very stiffly in his seat, feeling like a soldier trying to infiltrate the enemy army. He was in Gryffindor. _Gryffindor._ The scion of fifteen generations of Slytherin Malfoys and four generations of Slytherin Greengrasses, and he was in _Gryffindor._

Father was going to _kill him._ And Mother was at least going to be disappointed.

None of his fellow first-years seemed to notice his conundrum; it felt odd, being so anxious and nauseous amidst a table of blissfully happy House-mates. Although…was he just imagining that second-year boy glaring at him? He turned slightly in his seat, giving the older boy an uncomfortable glance. He hoped he was just being paranoid.

The last three students (Wilcox, Wilkes and Young) were sorted, and Professor Baumgartner moved the stool and Hat off to the side. A few students cheered until the headmistress rose and motioned for quiet. She was a plump old witch with short, gray hair.

"Settle down, students, settle down! Thank you," she trilled. "For those of you who don't know, I am your headmistress, Professor Sprout. And let me begin by saying—welcome to another wonderful year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

She began to clap, and everybody joined in, though Scorpius did so somewhat halfheartedly. "Now, before we begin the Feast—oh, don't give me that look, I'm just as peckish as you are!—I would like to give our Heads of Houses a moment to introduce themselves to their new charges. Hagrid, let's start with you."

She took her seat as the enormous man from the boats rose to his feet; Scorpius shrank back unconsciously. He looked like the kind of man who wrestled trolls for fun, though his smile, barely visible behind his shaggy beard, was lopsided and nervous.

"'Allo thar," he said, coughing. "My name's Professor Hagrid, but you can just call me Hagrid if yeh want. Erm, I'm Care o' Magical Creatures teacher, but none o' yeh firs' years are gonna take that until at least third year. But I'm here fer all you Gryffindors anyway! If yeh need anything, just find me around the castle, or come down to me cabin down by the Forest. Yeh can leave a note if I'm not there or send me an owl or anythin'. And don't be afraid—none of meh pets actually bite. Um, thank you."

He smiled awkwardly and sat back down; there was a smattering of applause. Scorpius did not join in this time. "Thank you, Hagrid" Professor Sprout said. "Next, let's hear from Professor Lemery from Hufflepuff."

"Thank you, Professor—oh!"

The young, pretty Hufflepuff teacher had stood up and immediately knocked over her goblet. The other professors quickly began cleaning her pumpkin juice with their napkins and wand while she tittered embarrassedly.

Scorpius stopped paying attention after that, lost in his own thoughts until the food finally appeared. He began to eat silently as his fellow first-years chattered around him. A few of them tried to engage him in conversation, but he remained as stoic as he could. He kept shooting looks over at that one second-year. There was no question—the boy kept pausing in his meal to glower at him.

A girl named Olivia Kask seemed to be trying to learn all the other first-years' names. "And you're—Niles Something?"

"Nil_us_ Eddine."

"Sorry. Some of these Wizard names are hard for me to remember. And what's your name?"

"Huh?" Oh—Scorpius. Scorpius Malfoy."

"Malfoy?" the second-year said, making Scorpius jump. (_Note to self: stop saying my last name._) "You wouldn't happen to be related to Lucius Malfoy, would you?"

For a moment Scorpius wondered if he should lie. He straightened up, trying his best not to sound nervous. "He's my grandfather."

"You and I are related, then. I'm Gavin Blishwick. Lucius Malfoy was my Grandpa Boris' cousin."

Was that all? Scorpius felt his face relax. "Oh. Well—"

"And then Lucius Malfoy _killed_ my grandfather in the First War."

Scorpius blanched. One of Gavin's Blishwick's friends sputtered and nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. Several people listening looked horrified, while others—presumably Muggle-borns—were staring with wide-eyed confusion.

Scorpius' mind struggled to come up with a response, but was too off-guard to think of one. He remembered what he had heard his father say in this kind of situation. "I—think you must be mistaken," he said, acting as cool as he could manage. "My grandfather—was found by the Wizengamot to be completely innocent of all— "

"He wasn't found _innocent._ They didn't _try_ him because he bribed half the judges and sold out the other Death Eaters to save his own skin."

Scorpius set his jaw. "I'm afraid you must be mistaken," he repeated, his teeth clenched.

Gavin stood and began to draw out his wand. The two boys sitting on either side of him jumped up too, looking alarmed.

"Gavin?" the dark-haired one said. "Calm down."

"What's going on over here?"

A pretty red-haired girl with freckles swept over, a prefects' badge gleaming on her robes. She crossed her arms and glared at Gavin's dark-haired friend. "Causing trouble _already,_ James?"

The dark-haired one looked indignant. "Hey, _I_ didn't do anything! Me and Evan were just stopping Gavin from going psycho on this first-year!"

Gavin gave James a murderous look. The prefect stared at him. "Alright, then—Blishwick. What's the problem here?"

He stared at her for a long moment, then looked away, scowling. "Nothing."

"Nothing, eh?" Her gaze turned to Scorpius. "What's your name?"

"Scorpius." No way was he giving his surname again.

"You gonna tell me what happened?"

He looked away, feeling his face burn. "Nothing, ma'am."

"Alright. But I'm watching you. _All_ of you."

She walked back to her seat at the end of the table. Gavin sat down and started eating again, but shot Scorpius a glare every couple of minutes.

Scorpius looked away. No one else tried to talk to him for the rest of the feast.

* * *

The Hufflepuff Common Room was hidden behind a stack of barrels near the kitchen; the prefects demonstrated how to enter correctly, while also showing what happened if you did the procedure wrong. ("Whoops, sorry, you were supposed to dodge!" one said as Joshua McNamara was sprayed with vinegar.) Inside it was cozy, with lots of yellow-and-black armchairs and magical plants dancing in their pots. At least Albus' new home was better than the dungeons.

_His new home._ Well, that just depressed him again. He felt a sudden pang of homesickness. He wondered what Mom, Dad and Lily were doing right now…

During the Feast Louis had continually pulled Albus into the conversation between him and his (dozen or so) friends, which made him feel awkward; once they got back the Common Room, however, he bid Albus goodnight and disappeared into the third-year dorm. The other first-years were yawning and heading to bed too; he followed, but didn't take part in their jovial conversation.

From what he could tell, his roommates were all happy with their house. Louis had seemed happy even when he was the odd one out in the family. And Rose had said she would be happy to be in Ravenclaw.

But Albus wasn't happy, he thought as he climbed into bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin—somehow feeling very small and awkward in an unfamiliar bed—and closed his eyes, one thought echoing in his head.

_Why didn't the Hat let me choose like Dad said?_

* * *

Scorpius knew that his roommates were watching him, but he was trying not to think about it.

He was trying not to think about the way they went quiet around him as he climbed into bed.

He was trying not to think about Gavin Blishwick's accusations as he closed his eyes.

He was trying not to think about what his parents would say when they found out he was not in Slytherin as he tried to fall asleep.

He was trying not to think about the reason he knew that the Hat _hadn't_ put him in Slytherin as he tossed and turned.

He was failing.

* * *

"_Hufflepuff!_ Like, a million generations of Gryffindors on both sides, and Al got sent to _Hufflepuff!_"

"Forget about that! Can you believe they sent that Malfoy kid _here?_ To _Gryffindor?!_"

Evan sighed. "Will you both _put a sock in it?_" He had been listening to James and Gavin all night and it was giving him a headache.

Gavin was putting on his pajamas in the _angriest_ way possible, practically punching each arm into its sleeve. James frowned as he watched him. "No offense, but I don't see what the big deal is. It's not like _this_ kid killed your grandpa. Beating the snot out of him isn't going to accomplish much."

"You don't understand," Gavin growled. "My grandma spent _years_ trying to get Lucius Malfoy arrested, but the Wizengamot wouldn't do it—even after the _Second _War, when everyone _knew_ he was a real Death Eater. And his son was a Death Eater too—it's the _whole damn family. _You honestly think this kid isn't also some kind of Pureblood nut?"

"As a Mudblood, I do not feel safe with him in this House," Evan said in a sarcastic drawl. "He might sneak in here while we're sleeping and shoot little sparks at me."

"Well, I know from experience that that _can _set a bedspread on fire." James paused as he pulled his pajama top over his head. "You know what I think?"

Gavin eyed him warily. "What?"

James was grinning as his head emerged from his shirt collar. "I think, whether this kid is a Junior Death Eater or not, Al getting into Hufflepuff means that we still need _someone_ to become this House's new resident stooge."

Evan quirked an eyebrow. Gavin thought for a moment, then smirked.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Naming _Harry Potter_ OCs is fun.

Also, for the record: the red-headed Gryffindor prefect is Victoire. I just couldn't find a way to mention that that felt natural.

Please review! I worked hard on this story and really want to know what people think of it. Praise, criticisms, questions, I'll take anything.


	3. Talks and Whispers

Scorpius had a hard time falling asleep that night, but by morning he was dozing silently, a welcome respite from the anxiety of the previous night.

It was abruptly broken at 8:30 AM, when he was violently yanked up by his ankles and left suspending in the air over his bed.

"_Agh!_ What the—huh—?!"

Scorpius thrashed in the air, hearing a chorus of snickers but unable to identify their source. His cries roused the other Gryffindor first-years, who caught sight of James, Gavin and Evan standing in the doorway, grinning like foxes in a henhouse. James' wand was out and lazily pointed at their suspended peer.

"Good morning, firsties! Just wanted to make sure none of you overslept! I'd hurry—it always takes a long time to find your way around on the first day. Anyway, _liberacorpus!_"

"_Agh!_" Gravity suddenly seemed to remember Scorpius' existence, and he crashed back down amidst his blankets and sheets. James and his friends chortled and swept out the door, leaving the first-years in bleary confusion.

* * *

Albus had a similar but less malicious awakening over in Hufflepuff; a boy named Joshua McNamara had been hopping around the room, trying to put on his right sock, when he accidentally fell right on top of Albus' bed and jerked him from a sound sleep. Joshua had apologized profusely, but Albus still thought this was a bad omen for the coming day/seven years of his life.

Albus' three other roommates had spent most of the Feast talking excitedly among themselves, and they jumped right back into it as soon as they woke up. It made Albus feel slightly awkward as he pulled himself out of bed and dug through his trunk for clothes—they seemed to have become friends instantly, while he was still reeling from being caught off from nearly his entire family.

"I hope we have Transfiguration today."

"I don't—my sister said the professor is a real bleeder."

"Professor Littlewood? She's an old friend of my aunt's, she's not so bad."

Albus tried to get a word in, though his voice came out both softer and higher than he expected. "The Herbology professor is an old friend of my—"

"What about that Professor Selwyn? Did you hear his speech last night?"

"I think you mean did we _hearrr _him."

"Heh-heh!"

Albus frowned and gave up, following them morosely out into the Common Room. Almost instantly he felt an arm grab him across the shoulders. He jumped, only for its owner—Louis—to laugh and draw him closer.

"Jumpier than usual this morning, huh? And that's saying something," he quipped. "How'd you sleep last night?"

"Not great," Albus admitted weakly.

Louis frowned. "Homesick already?"

"Sort of." He thought about mentioning how upset he was about being put in Hufflepuff, but decided against it. Instead he asked "Can you show me how to get to the Great Hall from here?"

"Sure! You can walk with me and my friends," Louis said, motioning to a large group clustered around the exit. He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "Does your friend need help too?"

Albus turned; Joshua McNamara was standing close behind them, apparently trying to either overhear directions or follow them unnoticed. His tawny, freckly face turned slightly red as they noticed him.

"I guess?"

"Cool. Come along, kid," Louis said, motioning as he and Albus headed over to his friends.

The Great Hall was practically right above the Hufflepuff Common Room, so it was pretty easy to find. Louis spent the short trip talking up a storm, but he and his friends vanished almost immediately once they reached their destination. Albus had a feeling this was going to be a pattern.

"Which table is ours?" asked Joshua McNamara.

"That one with the badger on the tapestry," Albus pointed. He scanned over the whole Hall, catching sight of Rose. "I'm gonna go talk to my cousin, okay?"

"Um—alright," Joshua said, as Albus hurried off to the Ravenclaw table.

"Hey—Rose!"

She looked up, breaking into a grin. "Hey, Al! How are you doing?"

He felt his face fall as he took the empty spot on the bench next to her. "Not that great," he admitted.

"Why not?" she said, then frowned. "Oh. Are you upset that you didn't get into Gryffindor?"

"Well, yeah." He gave her an odd look. "Aren't you?"

She shrugged. "Not really," she admitted, and then, in response to Albus' shocked expression "I mean, a little. I was sort of looking forward to being in the same house as Victoire and Molly."

"And James and Dominique."

"Well, I could take or leave them," Rose said with a wan smile. She shrugged. "I'm kind of glad I got into a different house, though. I mean—all of our aunts and uncles and every cousin except Louis was a Gryffindor…it's sort of nice to do something different, don't you think?"

Albus looked away, feeling his face burn. "I dunno. I mean—I wish we could at least be in the same house together."

"That's true." She looked away awkwardly, then asked "But Hufflepuff must be nice, right? I mean—that's Hufflepuff's whole thing, isn't it, being full of nice people?" She gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. "No wonder the Hat put you there."

Albus' frown deepened at that thought. He hesitated. "Rose, can I…ask you something?"

"What?"

"When you had the Hat on…did it…say anything to you? About why it decided not to put you in Gryffindor?"

She frowned. "Not really," she said slowly. "Well—sort of. It could tell that I was thinking about going to Gryffindor, but it said I would be good for Ravenclaw, too. And that it still regretted not putting my mum there."

"So it...let you choose?" he asked, feeling his heart sink.

"I suppose. But I told it to send me where _it_ thought would be best. It just decided I was more of a Ravenclaw."

"But you _could_ have been a Gryffindor? If you wanted?"

"Yes, but I told, you I don't _mind_ Ravenclaw—"

"I know, but—when I talked to the Hat, it…"

He trailed off, looking away. Before Rose could press him, however, a Ravenclaw prefect appeared, eyebrow quirked at Albus.

"Hey—sorry, I'm still learning faces, but are you in this House?"

"He's a Hufflepuff. But he's just visiting," Rose said quickly.

The prefect nodded. "Well, normally that would be fine, but on the first day Heads of Houses need you to stay at your own table. Make sure everybody gets the right schedule and everything."

"Oh. I'm sorry," Albus murmured, feeling himself blush again. "I'll talk to you later, Rose."

He got up and slouched back to his own table, taking the empty seat beside Joshua. He felt very alone.

He was startled out of his thoughts when a great rush of owls burst in through the window; several people gasped (Joshua even fell out of his seat in surprise) as the birds swooped down, dropping letters and packages to their charges. Though postage owls were normal to Albus, he had never seen such a large flock at once. His own pet Stripe, a southern white-face, fluttered onto the table beside his plate, and a moment later it was joined by Brocard, a pretty eagle owl that belonged to his parents.

Uh-oh.

Albus reached for the owl's letter with shaking hands, kicking himself for not realizing this was coming. He opened the envelope and read:

_Dear Albus,_

_We know you said you didn't want us to write to you too much, but your mother and I just wanted to wish you a happy first day. We hope you had a good feast last night, and we're sure that the Sorting turned out better than you expected. Please write as soon as you can to tell us where you turned up. And remember—we're proud of you no matter what. _

_Love,_

_Dad_

Albus' stomach twisted uncomfortably. He was sure this message was supposed to reassure him on the off-chance that he really _did _wind up in Slytherin, but somehow it just made him feel even worse. His dad had tried to make a good case for Slytherin—how it had been home to that Snape guy he was named after and how brave he was and everything. Somehow he doubted Dad could come up with anything so heroic to say about _Hufflepuff._

Stripe and Brocard were both looking at Albus expectantly. He folded up his father's letter, shoved it in his pocket and shooed them away.

"Go away. I'll write them back later." Brocard pecked at his hand; Albus drew it away and made a dismissive motion with the other. "_Go!_"

Brocard gave an affronted hoot and flew away. Stripe hesitated, probably hoping for some food, and then followed.

* * *

Unlike Albus, Scorpius had arrived early and started eating quickly, so he was already almost done when when the mail owls arrived. On the plus side, his Grandpa Greengrass sent him a box of Chocolate Frogs, a treat that his mother would never let him have. On the downside, he got a letter from his parents with all the expected pleasantries—we hope you had a nice trip, good luck on your first day, and oh yes, did you get into Slytherin?

He hated that they had phrased it like that. "Did you get into Slytherin"—like we _wanted_ you to? It would have been easier if they just asked which House he was Sorted into. Now he had to tell them no, I didn't get into Slytherin, I got into _Gryffindor. _Maybe if it was Ravenclaw they wouldn't mind, but _Gryffindor? _

Scorpius pocketed the letter and look down the table; maybe he was imagining it, but there seemed to be an unusual amount of space between him and his closest neighbor. He sighed. He was thinking of what to tell his parents when the enormous Professor Hagrid appeared, passing out schedules to each of his students.

"Firs' year, right? 'Ere ya go, then…"

He put a sheet of parchment next to Scorpius' plate and moved on, as the boy unconsciously moved forward to press his body against the table edge. He had Defense Against the Dark Arts first. Well, that was the class he had been looking forward to the most, at least. Maybe his first day would alright after all.

* * *

Professor Lemery's Potion class was held in the dungeon, but she had tried her best to compensate for that fact: the walls were covered with colorful charts and tapestries while magical balls of light floated near the ceiling, putting a cheerful vaneer over the dark room. There were about a half-dozen tables; most of the other Hufflepuffs shared with a partner, but Albus, too timid to ask to sit with anyone, sat by himself.

Professor Lemery was a pretty, youngish witch with fair hair, spectacles and black robes lined with yellow. She smiled warmly as she finished taking roll, her eyes hovering over each student's face.

"Alright, then. Well. Welcome to your very first class at Hogwarts!" she said, and Albus wished that he felt as enthusiastic as she sounded. "If you don't remember me from last night, I'm Professor Lemery, and I'm your Head of House. I hope all you kids are enjoying Hufflepuff so far!"

A few kids nodded or gave vague statements of assent. Albus put his head down on his arms.

"Now—Potions," Professor Lemery said, rising from her desk and walking among the tables. "This will be a little different from some of your other classes, as we will be focusing more on knowledge and formulas than on spells and incantations. Some of the greatest Potion Masters in history were terrible at other kinds of magic—not that I think any of you are!" She tittered nervously. "Um—well. Today we will begin by examining some of the common ingredients that—oh!"

Professor Lemery had been trying to motion to the supply cupboard, but accidentally hit a girl named Lucky Hebbar on the side of the head. "Sorry, sorry!" she said quickly, backing away. "Just a little clumsy today. _Ahem. _So. Um, ingredients. Please take out your books and turn to chapter one, and I want you to try to identify each of these—_agh!_"

Joshua McNamara had left his bag on the floor by his chair; he was now apologizing profusely as he helped the professor to her feet.

Somehow this class was not improving Albus' opinion of Hufflepuff House.

* * *

The Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a tall man with very dark hair and eyes. He had a mustache and a goatee so pointy that it looked like you could prick your finger on it. He began the class by taking roll, and then strode out before the Gryffindors with a critical gaze.

"Good morrrning, students. My name is Prrrofessor Rrraguel Selwyn, and I will be yourrr Defense Against the Darrrk Arrrts teacher. In this class we will—arrre you paying attention back therrre?"

Three girls had been snickering to each other in the back of the class. They all looked up, smiling innocently. "Yes, Prrrofessorrr," Hippolyta Prewett said.

If Professor Selwyn caught their mockery, he didn't show it. Instead he turned, walking with slow steps and a rigid back, over to the blackboard; he tapped it thrice with his wand and a long list of words began to write themselves into existence. "Herrre is ourrr rrrough schedule forrr the year. As you can see, we will focus mostly on theorrry for the firrrst term…you should be wrrriting this down," he added. There was a rustling of quills, though Scorpius had already started. "After Chrrristmas, we will turrrn our focus to a brrrief overrrrview of Darrrk Magic in historrry, as well as prrractical examinations…"

"You mean casting spells and stuff?" Michael Vaisey called.

Professor Selwyn gave a withering look. "In layman's terrrms, yes. And please, rrraise your hand when you wish to speak." He coughed softly. "Of courrrse, to study _Defense _Against the Darrrk Arrrts we must also understand the Darrrk Arrrts themselves. We will begin these next two weeks by studying the philosophies of classical thinkerrrs…"

He droned on for the next few minutes, casually throwing out names like Jannes and Jambres, Herpo the Foul and Maurus Alexander. Scorpius was beginning to wonder if he could keep up with this class. "And finally, our historrrical overrrview will come to a stop at the moderrrn errra, as we discuss the rrreign of Voldemort and the so-called Death Eater Movement. Of courrrse…"

Scorpius noticed that the girl sitting next to him had stopped writing and was staring at him. He looked up and she immediately went back to work, but still seemed to be watching him out of the corner of her eye. He had an unsetting feeling that people in the rows behind him were staring at him too.

"…go into more detail in the higher yearrrs; the firrrst year, to me, is best used as a generrral overrrview of the materrrial. As forrr my grrrrading arrrangement…"

Scorpius turned around in his seat, pretending to look at the clock, and immediately three raised heads went back down to their parchments. So they _were_ gaping at him. Scorpius set his jaw, slowly turning back around and forcing himself to take notes. _Just ignore them,_ he thought. That was how his parents usually dealt with these situations.

"…a quiz everrry week to make sure that you arrre keeping up with the rrreading. I— "

Two kids in the next row were whispering, and he distinctly heard one of them say "Death Eater" while casting him a furtive glance. He felt his hand tighten on his quill until it was almost bent. He felt like he was about to scream. Was he really such an oddity to these people?! Did he deserve to get treated like a zoo animal just because his dad made a few dumb mistakes twenty years ago?

The person sitting behind him tapped his shoulder. "Hey."

Scorpius spun around in his seat and practically snarled "_What?!_"

The kid blinked. "I just wanted to know if I could borrow your ink."

"Misterrr Malfoy, Misterrr Patterrrson—pay attention," Professor Selwyn said, barely breaking the pace of his lecture.

* * *

Things got off to a bad start in Herbology when Albus, distracted by unpleasant thoughts, answered the roll call by saying "Yeah, Uncle Neville?"

Several people laughed as Albus felt his face heat up. Neville's mouth twitched. "Call me Professor Longbottom, okay, son?"

"Yes, sir," Albus said, bowing his face in embarrassment.

"That's alright. Let's see…Urquhart, Johanne?"

After the roll Neville/Professor Longbottom went over the basics of what they were going to teach this year. It was a short lecture, followed by a tour of Greenhouse 1 (which included four varieties of singing plants). If Albus had been in a better mood it would have been a very nice class, and was certainly more enjoyable than Professor Lemery's Potions.

"Alright, now, it's a few minutes early, but I think we've pretty much covered everything for today. But make sure you read the first chapter of your book by Thursday—don't worry, it's not much! Ooh, Mr. Potter, could you stay behind for a bit?"

Albus froze, then headed back to Neville as the other Hufflepuffs happily made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. "Yes, Professor Longbottom?"

Neville didn't answer for a moment, craning his head to watch the Hufflepuffs disappear behind the other greenhouses. Then he grinned and pulled Albus into a sideways hug.

"Nice to see you, kiddo! But don't let anybody know that, or they'll get suspicious when I give you perfect marks on every test." He winked. "How are things?"

"Fine, I guess," Albus mumbled.

Neville's grin fell. "Is something wrong?"

"No, I—it's nothing."

Neville bent down, bringing his face close to Albus'. "Come on, Al— if something's wrong, you can tell me. Are you feeling homesick already, or is James— "

"No…it's nothing like that. I just—well…"

Something about Neville made him hard to lie to; or maybe it was more that Albus didn't feel like he _had_ to lie to Neville, since he was uninvolved in this whole "family legacy" problem. "It's about my House."

Neville nodded slowly. "_Ah._ Okay."

That tiny crack in Albus' defenses burst quickly, and he suddenly found his words coming out in a rush. "It's just—all summer James kept saying the Hat was going to put me in Slytherin, but the Hat didn't want to put me in Slytherin at all, but—instead it put me in Hufflepuff, and I don't _want_ to be in Hufflepuff, because James and Molly and everyone are in Gryffindor, and everyone in my _whole family_ was in Gryffindor except for Louis, but he already has a bunch of other friends and—and—Dad said the Hat let you pick, but it—didn't—"

He let out a choked sob, closed his eyes and felt hot tears flow down his cheeks. He suddenly realized that Neville was trying to shush him, and he had placed his hands on each of Albus' shoulders, turning him around so that they could look at each other face-to-face.

"Calm down, Al!" he said, a note of panic in his voice. Albus let out another sob, but he sniffled, trying to force his body to stop. "Al, no one in your family is going to think less of you just because you're not a Gryffindor. Why would you even think that?"

"Because—" he sniffled again. "I mean—everyone else was—and even _you _were—"

"Well, hey, that doesn't mean anything," Neville whispered, forcing a lopsided smile that looked more awkward than soothing. He leaned closer, his voice coming out even quieter. "Want to know a secret?"

Albus blinked back tears, nodding.

"When I came to Hogwarts, the Hat didn't listen to me either. Because _I_ requested to be put in _Hufflepuff._" Albus looked up in surprise. "Yeah, it's true! I didn't think I was brave enough for Gryffindor, but the Hat said I was. I must have spent almost five minutes arguing with it! So you see? A lot of people don't wind up in the House they expected."

Albus wiped his eyes and stared at him. "But—it said you were good enough for Gryffindor. Why did it say I _wasn't?_"

"Er—" Neville suddenly realized that his story might not have been the kind Albus needed to hear. He quickly changed tactics. "What I _mean _is—Gryffindor was the right house for _me,_ not that it's—better than any other. The Hat just…saw that I had Gryffindor qualities, deep down that I didn't know about. The Hat must have realized that _you_ have Hufflepuff qualities. Now come on—what are Hufflepuffs known for?"

"Nothing."

"Not _nothing— _Hufflepuffs are supposed to be, you know, kind and hardworking and loyal. And you've always been one of the sweetest kids I know!" Albus looked down at the ground, and Neville lifted his chin up, smiling. "I mean—you're Aunt Hannah was a Hufflepuff. Did you know that?" Albus shook his head. "Well, you see?"

"But—other than Louis, and I guess Rose now, I'm the only one…"

"Come on, now. Do you really think anyone is going to care that you got into a different House than them? I know your parents better than that."

Albus thought about that for a moment. "I don't think Mum and Dad are gonna be _mad _at me, like Uncle Ron told Rose he would be—and I think he was just joking anyway. But…everyone started making fun of Louis when _he_ got into Hufflepuff. I don't think it bothered him much, but it would bother _me _a lot. And…"

He trailed off. Neville frowned. "What, Al? Come on, talk to me."

"Dad said that the Hat let him pick what House you wanted," Albus repeated. "And Rose said that it _did_ let her pick, she just didn't want to go to Gryffindor that badly."

"So?"

"So it didn't let _me_ pick. I asked to be put in Gryffindor, and it…just ignored me." His lip quivered. "That must mean I'm not brave at _all—_otherwise it would have at least given me a choice."

"No. Don't say that," Neville whispered. "I mean, if that were true—then I must me a really nasty person, if it wouldn't even consider sending me to Hufflepuff. And you think I'm a nice guy, right?"

His tone was mock-pleading. Albus couldn't help but smile a little. "Yeah." His eyes fell again. "But then why _wouldn't_ it let me choose?"

Neville rose to his feet. "I can't really answer that, Al. But I don't think you should worry about it too much. It's not like you can change your House once you've been Sorted."

Albus was silent at that, looking at his feet. Neville sighed quietly, taking his watch from his robe pocket. "You really should get to the Great Hall for lunch. But do you feel better now?"

It was still hard to lie to Neville. "I don't know," he admitted.

"Well…think it over, okay?" He pocketed his watch, his expression still nervous. "Do you want me to walk you back to the castle?"

"No, thanks. I can find it."

"Alright." Albus turned to go. "And you know—I'm always here if you need to talk to someone. And Hagrid and the other professors, too."

"I know. Thanks."

Albus trod his way back to the castle, still sniffling a little, the dried paths of tears still palpable on his face.

He felt ashamed of himself for crying. It was his first day of class—not even a full day yet. He had barely been away from home for twenty-four hours, and already he was sobbing into Uncle Neville's robes like a baby.

No wonder he didn't belong in Gryffindor.

* * *

**Author's Notes: **Meet Joshua; he'll be our Neville for this fic. Also, meet Neville. He'll be our...Lupin, I guess?

I actually found him surprisingly difficult to write here; we know Neville as an insecure dork and then a badass rebel leader, so what would he be like as a well-adjusted adult? Also, the back story about him and the Sorting Hat comes from Pottermore, as do sundry other details like the Hufflepuff Common Room and the superstition that Muggle-borns can't use elm wands.

This is pretty much the only chapter where the other teachers appear. Oh well.

I changed the story icon. Not sure if I should keep it like this or change it back to the bad MS Paint picture of Al and Scorpius. Thoughts?


	4. Out of the Fire

**Author's Notes:** So far the last chapter hasn't gotten a single review. Um...okay. :-( Let's just move on, then.

I forgot to say this last chapter, but for the record, Harry and Ginny already know Albus is in Hufflepuff. James hasn't stolen the Marauder's Map yet. ;-)

* * *

The next day Scorpius again woke up suspended by his ankle as Gavin Blishwick and his friends snickered.

"_Let me down from here!_"

"Seriously," the boy named Nilus Eddine snapped as he turned over in his bed. "And everyone keeps telling me it's the _Slytherins_ who are the blighters."

The dark-haired one—Scorpius was pretty sure his name was James—scowled at that, but waved his wand to let Scorpius crash back onto his bed. The three of them left, guffawing like idiots.

Scorpius was really beginning to hate Gryffindor House.

* * *

Despite how much he missed being in the same House as James, Albus was not looking forward to their first meeting since his Sorting. The inevitable happened Tuesday morning during breakfast, just as Albus and Louis were starting to eat.

"_Hello,_ my yellow-and-bellied—I'm sorry, yellow-and-black—friends."

"Wotcher, cous'," Louis said casually, as Albus flinched.

He took the seat across from them, cracking his crooked grin. He pulled an envelope out of his robes. "I didn't miss the mail yet, did I? I really want to get this letter to Mum and Dad out as soon as possible."

"What's the rush?" Louis asked, biting into a piece of toast.

"Ah, nothing. Just want to let them know what's happened since we got here. Hey, Al—have you written home yet?"

He sank a little into his seat. "No."

"Really?" James' eyes widened in mock surprise. "Not even to tell them about your Sorting or anything? _Wow._"

Albus turned red; Louis was starting to see the game that James was playing. "I'm sure Al will find time to write them soon," he said, his genial voice tinged with warning.

"I hope so. Their letter to me yesterday went on and on about it—how eagerly they were awaiting word from Little Albus, how excited they were to add another proud Gryffindor to the family tree—"

Albus made a low moaning sound. Louis' eyes turned hard. "Shut up now, James.".

"I'm sorry—am I _badgering_ you two?"

Louis looked down the table, raising his hand as if beckoning someone. "Hey, prefects—"

"Okay, okay, I'm gone."

He made his way back to Gryffindor Table, where Gavin and Evan were already sitting. At the same moment Scorpius Malfoy was walking past and, with a flick of Gavin's wand, tripped over his own feet.

* * *

It was Wednesday when Albus got his second letter from home. _Please write back to us soon,_ Mum said. _I hope there you aren't having any problems, including anything with James. Don't let him walk all over you. And if anything is wrong, remember that you can always tell us about it. Love, Mum. _

Dad's letter had mentioned Houses, and now Mum made it clear that they knew "something was wrong." He put his face down on the table, wondering if his silence was just making it obvious or if Rose, James or Uncle Neville had already let the Kneazle out of the bag.

* * *

Wednesday was also when Scorpius' parents sent their second letter. _I'm afraid whatever owl you wrote us got lost somehow. Please write again as soon as possible. We hope you're alright, and are eager to hear how your Sorting and first few days have gone._

"Well, at least they didn't mention Slytherin this time," he muttered, balling the parchment up into a ball.

* * *

Albus tried to write a letter on Thursday.

_Dear Dad,_

_I got Sorted into Hufflepuff. The Sorting Hat didn't give me a choice like you said it would. And I haven't made any new friends because I'm a coward who can't talk to anyone, which is probably why the Hat wouldn't even consider me for Gryffindor anyway._

Albus tore the letter into pieces.

* * *

_Dear Mother and Father,_

_I am fine. I am sorry I did not write to you sooner. I was Sorted into Gryffindor because_

Scorpius paused, scratched out the last word and added a period.

_I was Sorted into Gryffindor. I am sorry. I know you both wanted me to be in Slytherin, even though everyone there would be Death Eater children who would want to hex me because you and Grandpa Malfoy put their relatives in Azkaban._

_Apologies,_

_Scorpius_

_P.S.: Could you please ask Grandpa Malfoy if he ever murdered a man named Boris Blishwick? Thank you in advance._

Scorpius paused, reread the letter and dumped his bottle of ink all over it.

* * *

Anita Ackergill liked the Slytherin Common Room. The furniture was dilapidated but comfortable, the people were interesting, and it connected the castle to the lake so that you could see the fish and giant squid swimming out the window. It was always a bit chilly, even in September, but the fireplace was perpetually lit to compensate. She had developed the habit of sitting in front of it every night with her homework, basking in the cozy strangeness around her and trying to puzzle through this odd new life she had found herself in.

"Excuse me."

Anita blinked as she looked up from her Transfiguration book. No one else was in any of the other armchairs. The voice hadn't sounded like the Bloody Baron, but maybe that Peeves fellow had found his way into the Common Room?

"Down here, miss."

"Down wh—oh!" Anita jumped a little as she caught sight of the fireplace. The flames had suddenly turned green, and there was a man's head floating amidst them. He had pale blond hair above a high forehead, a pointed chin and an expression that looked vaguely irritated.

"I'm sorry," the man said, though he didn't sound too perturbed. "Did I frighten you?"

"Just a little," Anita admitted. She tried to force herself not to stare, even as she marveled at the way his neck suddenly _stopped_ without any shoulders attached. The man offered no explanation for how he did this, so she figured it had to be a normal Wizarding thing. "Um— is there something I can do for you?"

"I hope so," the man drawled. "My name is Mr. Malfoy. Are you a first-year?"

"Yes."

"Then perhaps you know my son, Scorpius. Is he here?" The head turned within the flames as if searching for him in the immediate area. The sight made it impossible to think, so Anita closed her eyes.

"Scorpius?" She remembered that boy from the train, who, now that she thought of it, very much resembled the face in the fire. "Actually yes, I _do_ know him, but he's not here. He's in that other House, um—Gryffindor, I think?"

"_Gryffindor?!_"

Anita immediately realized she should not have said that. Scorpius apparently hadn't, and she vaguely remembered him mentioning a Slytherin legacy. That seemed to be a big thing among magical families, if the people she met were any indication. And Gryffindor, everybody said, was the bitter rival of Slytherin, though she had a feeling that mostly just applied to that weird broomstick-football game.

Mr. Malfoy looked troubled. "Alright, then. I suppose I will have to go _there_ in order to talk to him—"

"That won't work!" Anita said quickly, causing Mr. Malfoy to raise his pale eyebrows. "He—mentioned that Gryffindors have Astronomy on Thursday nights," she invented. "He probably won't be back for a few hours."

"Hmm." Mr. Malfoy's frown deepened. "But he's alright, then? No problems, other than…_that?_"

"Quite fine," Anita said brightly—though of course she had not seen him since the train ride, so she had no way to know.

"Well, thank heavens for that. He never wrote to say he got there, so his mother and I were worried sick." He looked lost in thought for a moment, then suddenly locked eyes with Anita again. "You tell Scorpius I want to talk to him. I expect a letter by tomorrow evening, or my face will be in Gryffindor Tower tomorrow night. Understood?"

"Yes, sir."

There was a _POP!_, and Mr. Malfoy vanished. Anita stared at the fire for a moment as if expecting him to return.

Ludmilla Neff and Charmian Farley came down from the dormitory, noticing their friend's curious expression. "What are you looking at?" Charmian asked.

"You remember that boy Scorpius, from the train? His father's head just appeared in the fireplace, trying to check up on him."

"My," Ludmilla gasped, "how embarrassing! If _my_ father did that, I would just _die…_"

* * *

"_You told him what?!_"

"Mr. Malfoy?" called Professor Lemery from the head of the class. "Do you need something?"

He felt his face burn. "No, Professor."

"Oh. Well, then…where was I? Um, so, this is a bezoar. Does anyone know what it does? Anyone?"

"I'm sorry," Anita whispered, "but I didn't know that it was a secret! And I don't know why it is, anyway. All the Houses seem fine to me."

Scorpius frowned, casting a look around the crowded Potions classroom. It was a double lesson this morning, Gryffindors and Slytherins—in half the seats, people who had been trying to avoid him all week while whispering behind his back. In the other half, people like Gallia Goyle (who had, indeed, shot him a nasty look before class began).

And, sitting right next to him, Anita. Who was a Slytherin even though she was a Muggle-born. And who was trying to warn her about his father's wrath.

He frowned. "Thanks for telling me this," he muttered.

"It's fine. Think nothing of it."

"Can I—ask you a question?"

"What?"

"What's it like in Slytherin? I mean…are you…happy the Hat sent you there?"

She shrugged. "Pretty much. I mean—I could do without that Gallia girl, but Milla and Char are really nice."

"But nobody cares that you're a Mug—er." Scorpius stopped in mid-sentence, wondering if it was politically incorrect to ask so blatantly.

"A what? Oh—because my parents aren't witches? Nobody's bothered me about that. I mean, I've heard the _rumor_ that Slytherins are supposed to hate—Muggle-borns, is it? And that they're supposed to be evil and stuff, but everyone's been really nice to me. I don't think any of that stuff is true."

Scorpius felt like he had been punched in the gut. _Not true?_ But Gallia…and everything he had heard about Voldemort and just about every Death Eater being a Slytherin. Was it really nothing he had had to worry about? Was Slytherin really the paradise his parents always made it out to be?

Anita was watching Scorpius curiously. He raised his eyes, setting his jaw.

"You know what, Anita?"

"What?"

"I'm going to see if I can get re-Sorted."

She blinked. "You can do that? How?"

* * *

"Well, this is…rustic," Scorpius muttered to himself, staring at the hovel that constituted Professor Hagrid's home. It stood beside a patch of very large pumpkins on one side and an enclosure of hippogriffs on the other. He approached the door cautiously and knocked.

He heard the huge man stirring inside. The door swung open. "Ah, well, who do we have—oh," Professor Hagrid said, looking down at the pale blonde boy before him. "Yeh actually _weren't_ who I was 'specting."

"Um…should I come back later?"

"Nah, nah, don' worry about it," Professor Hagrid said, and Scorpius was surprised to suddenly find himself being steered into the room by a hand the size of his own head. "Come in, come in! Make yerself at home."

This would have been quite difficult for Scorpius, since the entire cabin was about the size of his house-elf's bedroom. Professor Hagrid steered him toward a hand-carved, rather filthy-looking chair that Scorpius sat on a bit reluctantly. There were animal skins hanging on the walls and an ant farm full of…_some_ sort of bug on a nearby table. There was also a bird hanging from the ceiling in a cage. It provided a melodious, soothing song.

"Is that a Fwooper?"

"Ah, very good!" Professor Hagrid said, beaming at him. "Just got 'er a few days ago, too. Innit she pretty?"

"Don't Fwoopers need to have a Silencing Charm put on them? …Because listening to their songs for too long makes people go insane?"

"Huh? Oh, yeah, but it takes about a week before _that_ starts ter happen. I just haven't had time to look that old spell up yet. Anyway, yeh're here fer school business, I presume?" Professor Hagrid said, bustling to the stove to get a pot of tea.

"Um—yes, sir," Scorpius mumbled, though the last word seemed very out-of-place given the circumstances. He had had a carefully-prepared speech written in his mind, but he suddenly found it hard to read now. "You see—my name is Scorpius Malfoy, and last Sunday I was Sorted into Gryffindor—"

"And a dead shock that was, eh?" Professor Hagrid said, giving him a playful slap on the arm ("_OW!_ ") and letting out a mighty guffaw. "Seeing a Malfoy get Sorted inta Gryffindor! I tell ya, I never thought I'd see the day."

"Um…yes," Scorpius said uncomfortably. _I'm starting to think I don't like Professor Hagrid much._ "That is…what I came here to talk to you about. You see— "

There was another knock at the door.

* * *

Albus shifted uneasily on the doorstep of Hagrid's cabin as the door burst open. Hagrid let out a great cry of joy, engulfing Albus in a bone-crushing hug.

"Ah-ha-ha! Nice ter see ya, Al, nice ter see ya! How ya been?"

"Not great," Albus admitted, frowning. "Can I come in?"

"Course ya can! But ya might have ter wait jus' a minute—I got another guest 'ere on school business."

As he was led inside, Albus was surprised to see a familiar-looking blond boy sitting at Hagrid's table, looking distinctly out-of-place. "Scorpius?" Albus said, taking another chair.

"Oh—hello, Albus," Scorpius said, looking a bit off-guard himself.

Hagrid paused in the act of pouring tea. "You two know each other?"

"We met on the train here," Albus explained.

For some reason Hagrid seemed to find that very funny. Scorpius frowned as the giant man chortled to himself and poured the two boys some tea. He also put a plate of rock cakes on the table before turning away to wipe a tear. The two boys exchanged a confused look, and Scorpius couldn't help but wonder if the Fwooper was getting to the man.

"Ah…wonders in this castle'll never cease. Anyway, what was it yeh wanted ter talk to me about, Scorpius?"

"Well—_ahem._" He cast a quick look at Albus, wishing he had more privacy for this, but plowed ahead. "No offense, Professor, but I—would like to transferred out of Gryffindor. If that's possible."

Albus looked up in amazement. (Transfer _out_ of Gryffindor?!) Hagrid mouth curved into a frown beneath his massive beard. "And here I was so happy ter have you in! Why'd yeh want ter be transferred out?"

Scorpius looked away. "Several reasons. As you mentioned, my family have all— "

"I wou'dn't try using that argument, boy," Hagrid said, and both boys were surprised to hear a growl in his voice. "I didn' wanna say anything, but I knew yer dad _and_ yer granddad when they were in Hogwarts, and neither o' them were people yeh'd be wantin' ter copy."

Scorpius looked furious for a moment, then gave a petulant grimace. "I _know_ that. Some of your precious Gryffindors won't let me forget it."

"What're yeh talkin' 'bout?"

Scorpius shot another look at Albus—he _really_ didn't want this getting out more than it already had, but that Goyle girl had announced it on the train, so why bother trying to hide it?

"Everybody in Gryffindor knows about my father's…youthful indiscretions." It was the term Scorpius had always heard his family use whenever somebody questioned his father's past; Hagrid scoffed at the words, but Scorpius pressed onward. "And nobody will even talk to me because of it. A few of the second-years are outright _stalking_ me—they curse me when I'm sleeping, trip me in the corridors, turned all my robes pink—"

"Well _tha'_ ain't no reason to change houses, but it _is_ somethin' I c'n help yeh with," Hagrid said gruffly. "Who's been doin' all this?"

Scorpius hesitated for a moment, as if wondering if he should give their names. "One of them is named Gavin Blishwick. His family apparently has a…feud with mine that I was not aware of. One of them is named James, I believe—"

"James and his friends?" Hagrid interrupted, as Albus also looked shocked.

Scorpius was wary. "Yes? Why?"

"James is my brother," Albus said, slightly pale.

"And a right troublemaker, I'll admit." Hagrid grimaced. "I'll hafta have a talk with that boy. He takes these pranks o' his too far sometimes."

"But—what Scorpius asked—about changing houses," Albus said tentatively. "Is that possible?"

Hagrid turned his beady eyes to him. "Why _yeh_ askin'? Ain't _yeh_ happy at least?"

"No," Albus said quickly, lowering his head so that his chin rested on his arms on the dirty tabletop. "It's not fair. James and everyone else get to be in Gryffindor but not me."

"Rosie got sent ter Ravenclaw, didn' she? And what about ol' Bill's son—Louis, right?"

"Yeah," Albus said moodily. "But that's different."

"How's that?"

"Because—I think Louis likes being in a different house than everybody. Or at least he doesn't mind it. And Rose she said the Hat could have put her in Gryffindor but she didn't care either way. But I _wanted_ to be in Gryffindor and it didn't listen. Even though my dad said it listened when _he_ asked to be put in Gryffindor."

"Well, Al, it's not always—"

"It's not fair!" Albus interrupted. "Everybody else got to be in the house they wanted. Everyone but me and Scorpius," he added. The blond boy quickly looked away. "Why did it listen to everyone else but not us?"

Hagrid scratched his head. "Well—look, Al. If the Hat said yeh belong to Hufflepuff, it must've seen some real Hufflepuff qualities in yeh. And the same with yeh and Gryffindor," he added, as Scorpius' pale face turned pink. "And believe me—yeh're far from the first students who asked me to change yeh're houses. It's not something I really have any power ter do."

"But I think I—might be a special circumstance," Scorpius said haltingly.

"Well, I'm sorry ter tell you this, but family legacies ain't that—"

"No, not that." He looked up, flashing Albus an expression that looked almost…apologetic? "You see, I…astobepuingryffindr," he mumbled.

"Pardon?"

"I—_asked_ to be put in Gryffindor," Scorpius said, slowly and painfully. "So you see—it _didn't_ see any special Gryffindor qualities in me," he added quickly, trying to ignore the way Albus' jaw had dropped. "It was just a—stupid mistake on my own part. And I would like to correct it and find out what house I _really_ belong in."

Nobody spoke for a moment. Hagrid frowned, absentmindedly stirring his tea. "Well, Scorpius, if yeh don' mind me askin', why'd you ask fer that in the first place? It don't seem like somethin' yeh really wanted if yeh're just gonna ask me to change it now."

"I did it because—I don't _know!_" Scorpius snapped, making Albus flinch. "It was just—my parents had been talking about me going to Slytherin all summer, and I know Slytherin has this reputation for, you know, _Dark_ Magic and everything, and I—know lots of people hate my dad for being a Death Eater, and a lot of those people are Death Eaters _themselves, _because he and my grandfather helped put them away—and there was this girl on the train, and…like I said, it was stupid! It was a stupid, impulsive decision, and I…"

He trailed off as Albus stared at him, replaying the Sorting in his head. He remembered that strange look of determination Scorpius had had when he put on the Hat…and then, when he took it off, an expression of astonishment. At what? The Hat's decision, or his own reckless disregard for what had, apparently, been a unanimous plan up until that moment?

Scorpius had _chosen_ Gryffindor. Whether it was a smart choice or not, the Hat had let him choose.

Albus felt more alone now than ever.

Hagrid was quiet for a long time, but eventually leaned forward, stroking his beard. "Well, Scorpius, I gotta be honest— I'm sorry if yeh regret yeh're decision, but there ain't nothing I c'n do 'bout it. Far as I know nobody's allowed to change their Houses after the Sortin'."

"But there has to be _some _way!" Albus pleaded. "Please?"

Hagrid sighed. "All I c'n really do is refer yeh to the Headmistress. If anyone can change yeh're houses, it's her. But I warn yeh," he said, pointing at Albus. "_She_ was a Hufflepuff herself, and she's dead proud o' it. I doubt she'll listen to either of yeh, frankly. But I c'n talk to her about givin' you two an appointment."

* * *

The two boys walked back to the castle in silence. Albus kept shooting Scorpius furtive looks, while Scorpius kept his eyes on his feet, his cheeks slightly pink.

"So, you…don't like Gryffindor, then?"

"No. But it might be better for you, I suppose."

"Hmm. I'm sorry James has been bugging you so much. He bugs me a lot too."

"Hmm."

"If he keeps doing it, try talking to our cousin Victoire. She's the seventh-year prefect. She can keep him in line better than most people."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Another silence fell.

"You looked really surprised when you got sorted into Gryffindor."

"I _was_ surprised. I can't believe I did that. Once you told me the Hat might listen, though, I just…did it on the spur of the moment." He frowned. "I'm not usually that rash. Or stupid."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, it didn't let _me_ choose at all," Albus grumbled.

"If it makes _you_ feel any better, I wish it _hadn't _let me."

* * *

Scorpius hid in the dormitory that night, reading. At about 9 P.M., Nilus Eddine stuck his head in.

"Hey, uh—Scorpius? Your dad's in the fireplace, and—"

"Please tell him I'm not in," Scorpius said automatically.

"…Why?"

"Tell him I'm—in the library or have detention or _something._ I don't care."

"I meant why do you…whatever."

He left, then returned a few minutes later. "I told him you were in the library."

"Thank you."

"But then he asked when the library closes. So I told him you had detention after that for blowing up the Charms corridor. Not sure if he bought it, though."

"Hmm. Thanks."


	5. Unexpected Meetings

**Author's Notes:** I changed the Headmaster's Office's description a bit. I figured Professor Sprout would redecorate.

* * *

"Changing houses?" Rose said, pausing with her toast halfway to her mouth. "Is that even allowed?"

"I don't know," Albus admitted, poking his eggs with his fork. "But I hope so. Hagrid said he would ask Professor Sprout to talk with us about it."

"Well, I think you're making too big a deal out of this, myself. What's so wrong with Hufflepuff that you're going this far too get out of it?"

Albus squirmed uncomfortably, casting a glance over at his house's own table. "There's nothing _wrong_ with it…exactly." _Except that it's the House for duffers and everyone knows it, _he thought. "It's just…I don't know anybody, and— "

"So go meet people!" she interrupted. "I didn't know anybody here in Ravenclaw, and I've managed to make friends. Aren't Hufflepuffs supposed to be the sociable ones?" she said, giving an annoyed but playful push on the shoulder.

Albus was quiet for a moment, squirming again. Rose sighed, putting down her fork. "Alright—never mind. I'll let Professor Sprout talk some sense into you. What do you want to do today?"

"I don't know," Albus said, though his morose face perked up the slightest bit. He had been eagerly awaiting the weekend, if only for the opportunity to spend some time with Rose and his other non-Hufflepuff relatives. "I don't suppose we'd be allowed to use the Quidditch pitch, would we?"

"I know we're not, the Ravenclaw team is having try-outs today. But maybe we could go watch—my friend Kyle's older sister is going for Keeper, so—"

She was interrupted by the mail owls, three of whom landed beside them. Rose quickly read the letter from her parents, frowning at the end. "'_P.S.: Please tell Al to write home, your Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry are getting worried about him,'_" she read, giving her cousin a pointed look.

Two owls were fighting to deliver their notes to him; the first was a simple folded parchment without an envelope. "_'Dear Misters Potter and Malfoy, Please be at my office at 1:30 P.M. to discuss your Sorting arrangement. Sincerely, Professor Pomona Sprout._ Alright!" he said, his face breaking into a grin. "Hagrid did it!"

"Hmm," Rose said noncommittally. "What's that one?" She motioned to the other owl, who looked peeved and restless.

"It's a letter from my mum and dad," Albus said uneasily, opening it up. His eyes swept down the parchment; his face suddenly turned pale, his jaw dropping open.

"What's the matter?" When Albus didn't answer she snatched the letter from him. "_'Albus—we found out that you got Sorted into Hufflepuff and have never felt…more disappointed? You are a disgrace to the entire Potter and Weasley names, and the fact that you tried to hide this shows that we have a total coward for a son—_"

"I— I can't believe—" Albus voice was thick as he felt tears begin to form in his eyes.

"Wait a minute!" Rose said suddenly. "Isn't that _James'_ owl? _And his handwriting?!_"

Albus blinked back tears, his eyes going wide as he stared from the letter's messy scrawl. He spun around toward the Gryffindor table just as James and his friends were quickly looking away, laughing uproariously.

Shock and relief settled into Albus, but Rose jumped to her feet. "Oh, that is _it._ I—"

"Rose, no!" Albus said, grabbing the back of her robes and trying to pull her back into her seat. "He's just going to get mad if you—"

"He's _mad_ already if he thinks he can get away with this!"

"Let's just forget about it. Please?" Albus pleaded.

Rose scowled, glaring at her Gryffindor cousin, and then spun around to snap at Albus. "You never stand up for yourself. James is always going to walk all over you if you _let_ him."

"I don't—"

"And you know, if you would just _tell_ Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry he wouldn't be able to pull pranks like this anyway! I mean, honestly! Do you really think they would ever write you something like—_this _bilge?!" She shook the fake letter.

Albus turned pink. "No. But—look, it doesn't matter anyway. By tomorrow I'll be in Gryffindor and this whole mess will be over. Hopefully."

"Right," she said, casting a dark look back at James. "Because _that_ will prove that you're a worthy person."

* * *

Scorpius was just about to leave the Great Hall when he saw Albus Potter walking out with his cousin. He paused to let the other boy reach him, then held up a scrap of parchment. "You got a note from the Headmistress too, I assume?"

"Yeah," Albus said, digging his identical missive out of his robes. "1:30."

"I suppose she's seeing the two of us together, then. Do you know where her office is?"

"No," said Albus, who had not thought about that. "I guess I'll ask somebody to help me find it."

"I suppose I'll do the same," Scorpius said. "See you then."

He walked off. Rose cocked her head and regarded him curiously.

"He seems nice enough. I wonder why it is that my dad dislikes him?"

* * *

Scorpius spent most of the morning in the library, where he could do his homework without having to worry about noise, suspicious glances or troublesome second-years. What he _did_ have to worry about was Peeves. He had heard about the school's resident poltergeist, but was fortunate enough not to have run into him during his first week. That changed as soon as he exited the library, at which point a bucket of something green and slimy immediately splashed upon his head.

"_AGH!_"

"Hee-HEE!" the floating man said, clapping with delight. "I got me a firstie! Got me a—"

"_HEY!_"

"Whoopsie!" Peeves cackled, as two prefects ran forward with wands out. He shot through the air and disappeared down the corridor; the two prefects ran right past Scorpius, one of them almost tripping in the puddle of…_something_ that had formed around his feet.

Scorpius sputtered with indignation, growled, then set off for the Gryffindor Common Room as fast as he could, which was not easy since his shoes were now sticking to the floor. It was 1:10—he had less than half an hour before he met the Headmistress, and now he was going to have to get someone who knew the _Scourgify_ charm before he could even find out how to get there.

* * *

"…and there's a shortcut behind that tapestry, but it only appears on Thursdays. Otherwise, take a left here," Victoire said as her younger cousins followed. "Then just go down this last corridor and it's right behind the gargoyle. Since she didn't give you a password I assume she'll just let you in when she's ready."

Albus smiled. "Thanks, Victoire."

"No problem, Al." She ruffled his hair for a moment ("_Gerroff!_" he said, though good-naturedly.) "Do you need anything else?"

"Actually, yes," Rose cut in before Albus could answer. "He's been having a problem with James."

"_Rose!_"

Victoire scoffed. "Of course. When is that one _not_ causing trouble? What'd he do this time?"

It was Albus' turn to cut Rose off now. "Nothing!" he snapped. "I mean—nothing...serious, anyway."

"Hmm." Victoire regarded him closely, then shrugged. "Well, I can't do anything unless you tell me—and even then I can't do much. Personally, I'd just write to Grandma Weasley if I were you."

"Huh?" Albus blinked. "What can she do?"

Victoire grinned slyly. "She keeps a whole stack of Howlers ready in her desk. I got her to send him _three_ last year." She winked at Albus' awed expression. "Anyway, good luck—but I really don't think Professor Sprout is going to go for this."

"Me neither," Rose said. "But good luck, I suppose."

Albus face dropped again. "Thanks."

The two girls went off, talking about Rose's first week at Hogwarts; Albus suddenly wished he had asked them to keep him company while he waited. He checked his watch—1:15. He had about fifteen minutes to figure out what he was going to say to Professor Sprout. He bit his lip, trying to think.

Several minutes passed, and all he had come up with was "pretty please with sugar on top."

"I wonder when Scorpius is going to get here…"

* * *

Nilus stared as Scorpius clambered through the portrait hole. "What happened to _you?_"

"I don't—have time," Scorpius said through gritted teeth, sidestepping him. He was running out of time. He needed either a.) an older student willing to _Scourgify_ him, or b.) some clean clothes and a very quick shower. Then he still had to get directions to the Headmistress' office, and he was pretty much guaranteed to be late, and—

"Hey, um, Scorpius? Scorpius Malfoy?" a third-year girl called.

He did not have _time_ for this. "What?!"

"Your dad's in the fireplace!"

Scorpius froze. There was a couch between him and the hearth, which hopefully was blocking him from view. He wondered if his father had heard him yelling, or if there was some way to claim that he wasn't in the room—

"_Scorpius. Come here._"

"Merlin's pants," Scorpius muttered, slowly making his way around the couch.

* * *

Albus checked his watch again. He frowned.

"Is it 1:30 yet?"

Albus jumped, looked around and realized it was the gargoyle who had spoken. "Um, yes," he stammered. "I mean—my watch says 1:29, but—"

"Close enough." It frowned, which only made its gormless face look uglier. "Weren't there supposed to be another kid?"

"Um, yes—Scorpius. I presume he got lost on his way here. I can wait another—"

It stepped to the side, revealing the entrance to the Headmistress' Tower. "Come on up."

Albus swallowed, took a deep breath and entered. Inside was a moving stairway, like one of those escalator things he had seen when his father took him to a Muggle department store once. He rode it to the top, where he was greeted by a handsome wooden door with an eagle-head knocker. He hesitated, knocked and heard a cheerful "Come in!"

He opened the door slowly. Professor Sprout's office reminded him of the Hufflepuff Common Room: round, bright and full of potted plants. The Headmistress herself was seated behind a large desk, setting her quill down to look kindly at him through her spectacles. Behind her were several shelves full of books, more plants, little silver devises and other seemingly-random items. The rest of the wall, however, was covered in portraits, most of whom seemed to be asleep.

"Hello—Mr. Potter, I believe?" She craned her head to look past him. "Is Mr. Malfoy with you?"

"No, Professor. But I think he might be on his way."

"Hmm. Well, I'm a bit short on time, so we might as well get started on you, in any case. Sit down, sit down," she said, taking out her wand and producing a pair of cushioned chairs.

Albus took his seat, licking his dry lips. Professor Sprout, thankfully, did not seem to notice his nervousness. "Thank you for meeting with me," he said. "I hope it's not a bother."

"Oh, no, no, I like to make time for any student who needs me," Professor Sprout said cheerfully. "It's a welcome change from all the paperwork!" She picked up a stack of parchments and let them fall back onto her desk, chuckling. "Now," she said, pulling one of those parchments out, "Professor Hagrid told me that you and Mr. Malfoy are both unhappy with your Houses?"

"Yes," Albus said, and then, before he could think better of it, "_Is_ there any way to change them, Professor? Please?"

"To be honest we've never really done that before, so I don't feel comfortable doing so now unless this is an extremely unusual situation. So tell me, Mr. Potter," Professor Sprout leaned forward, putting her hands together, "what is it exactly that makes you think you are a wrong choice for Hufflepuff House?"

Albus looked away, feeling his cheeks burn. He noticed a few of the portraits watching him curiously, which only made it more difficult to talk. "I dunno. Nothing…all that big, I guess. But I—just really wanted to be in Gryffindor."

"And why is that?"

He shrugged. He suddenly felt very small and pathetic, even though Professor Sprout was clearly trying to be kind. "My whole family's there. Well—except my cousin Louis. But he's already got his own friends and everything, and I miss my brother and other cousins. And…well, both my parents were in Gryffindor, and all of my uncles…"

He trailed off, then hazarded a look at Professor Sprout. She gave a wan smile.

"Well, Gryffindor is certainly a fine house, and I understand the desire to be with your family," she said. "But let's look at this another way—why do you think the Hat here decided to put you in Hufflepuff instead?"

She motioned to the shelf behind her, and Albus felt a jolt as he noticed the Sorting Hat, old and worn and utterly silent. He stared at it for a moment, then shook his head, trying to focus. He bit his lip.

"I guess it thought I…just wasn't brave enough for Gryffindor?"

"You don't understand what I mean," Professor Sprout said kindly. "I don't want to know why the Hat decided _against_ Gryffindor for you—why do you think it _did_ decide Hufflepuff? That was _my_ old house, you know. It's certainly known for some excellent qualities."

Albus felt his face burn hotter. He really wasn't making his case very well. He glanced up at Professor Sprout again, and this time he was sure that several of the portraits were witnessing his humiliation. An old white-haired wizard and a yellow-robed witch seemed to be watching him particularly closely.

"You seem like a very sweet young man, Albus. And I daresay that you seem loyal, too, if you feel so strongly about being with your family. But you don't have to be in the same House for that. You know, I was still Herbology professor and Head of Hufflepuff back when Louis was a first-year. He seems to enjoy Hufflepuff, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Albus admitted. "But he has lots of friends in Hufflepuff."

"Is anything stopping _you_ from makingHufflepuff friends?"

"I'm not...good talking to people," he murmured. _As if that wasn't obvious,_ he thought. Then, after a moment, "Can I ask you a question, Professor?"

"Certainly."

"Do you know if the Hat…usually let's people choose their house? I mean, if it takes what they want into consideration?"

Professor Sprout regarded him closely for a moment. "It certainly does take matters like that into account. But Albus, I'm not sure you should be worrying so much that—"

There was a sudden loud knock at the door. Albus turned, expecting to see Scorpius, but instead it was Neville who threw open the door, gasping for breath.

"Professor—I'm sorry, but Peeves is out of control today—he's apparently been dumping Stinksap on people, and then he let Raguel's Erklings loose in the East Tower!"

"Oh, ruddy—" Professor Sprout jumped to her feet, brandishing a wand. "Excuse me, Albus—I'll be back in a moment. Hopefully."

"Um—alright."

She and Neville hurried out of the room.

For a moment Albus sat stilly, biting his lip. He kept his eyes down at his shoes sticking out from the hem of his robes. There was no way she was going to let him change Houses, he thought. He was just making a fool of himself.

"Excuse me, young man?"

He looked up toward the portrait of the white-bearded wizard, who was smirking at him beneath his massive whiskers. "Er—yes, sir?"

"I'm sorry, but I could not help but overhear your conversation with my esteemed colleague a moment ago. What did she say your name was? _Albus,_ I believe?"

"Yes, sir."

The portrait's smile twitched. "A very fine old name. _My_ name, in fact. What a small world."

"Oh, that…" The younger Albus froze, something clicking in his mind. "Wait—are you…Albus _Dumbledore?_"

"My reputation proceeds me," Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling.

Albus hesitated, then stood, walking around Professor Sprout's desk to come closer to the picture; he had a nervous, lopsided smile on his face. "I was named after you! I'm Albus Potter—Harry Potter's son."

"I thought as much," Professor Dumbledore said, looking at his namesake shrewdly. "You look _extraordinarily_ like your father. Except for your eyes." He paused. "Your father wore glasses, after all."

Albus nodded, having heard similar comments before. "It's very nice to finally meet you," he said nervously. "I mean, I've heard so much about you, and, well—"

Professor Dumbledore laughed. "I assure you, my boy, the feeling is mutual. I have been looking forward to meeting my namesake ever since your brother told me about you."

Albus frowned. "You've met James?"

"Yes, he was sent up here a time or two last year," Professor Dumbledore said slyly. "Something about making a toilet explode."

"And Sprout let him off with a week's detention," a green-robed wizard sniffed from another portrait. "In _my_ day, we would have used a _real_ punishment."

"_Yes,_ Phineas, though I'm sure Pomona valued your input as much as I ever did."

Albus blinked, looking around at the other portraits; several more seemed to be watching him now, making him feel self-conscious again. "Are you—_all_ old Headmasters? Would Severus Snape be here?"

"_Severus?_" said a witch. "Why would you _want _to talk to him?"

"Be nice, Ataurote," Professor Dumbledore said; then, to Albus, "He's right here in the portrait next to me. Oh, Severus?"

His neighbor, a middle-aged wizard with black hair, was sleeping, making a slight wheezing noise from his long, hooked nose. Professor Dumbledore reached over into his portrait and poked him with his wand several times; Professor Snape batted it away.

"_What?_ I was sleeping," he growled, opening his eyes.

"So sorry, Severus," said Professor Dumbledore, who actually sounded rather amused, "but you have a visitor." He motioned to Albus. "Meet young Mr. Potter."

"_Potter?_"

Albus' smile fell as Professor Snape turned to him, his mouth set in a grimace and his black eyes probing him critically. "Well, I can certainly see the family resemblance. You look _just_ like your grandfather."

"Um, thank you?"

"I didn't mean that as a compliment. So," he sighed, "what _wonderful_ appellation did your father bless _you_ with? Remus Peter, perhaps?"

"Er—no," Albus said, unsure why he would think that—'Remus' sounded vaguely familiar, but he couldn't quite place its source. "My name is Albus. Albus _Severus,_" he added, forcing another nervous smile and standing up a bit straighter.

If he expected Professor Snape to be impressed by that, he was wrong; instead he looked like he had just tasted something bitter. "I'm _honored,_" he sneered. "But sadly, I have business elsewhere. If you'll excuse me—"

He walked past the edge of his portrait and vanished. Albus frowned, turning back to Professor Dumbledore. "Did I—say something wrong?"

"Hmm…no, my boy. Professor Snape is just a tad moody. Truth be told, I should have foreseen a less than favorable reaction. Not at all your fault, I assure you."

"Oh. Okay," Albus murmured, though he couldn't help but feel put-out. He went back to his chair and sat down, resting his face in his hands. The portraits continued to watch him, and after a moment, the yellow-robed witch he had noticed earlier spoke.

"Forgive me for eavesdropping, son, but it sounds like you're having trouble in me old alma mater. You surely ain't bought into those old lies about Hufflepuffs being worthless nobodies, I hope?"

"No. I mean—not exactly," Albus said, feeling himself blush again. "It just…isn't the House I wanted."

"Really?" Professor Dumbledore sounded interested here. "And—if I heard correctly—it was Gryffindor you preferred?"

"Yes. I mean—I know Hufflepuff is a good house and everything," he said quickly, giving the yellow-robed witch a look, "but it's not the one I would have chosen. And the Hat didn't _let_ me choose," he added bitterly.

"Really?" Professor Dumbledore sounded curious. "In my experience, the Hat generally allowed one to pick his own path."

"Well, it didn't let _me._" He turned to the shelf behind Professor Sprout's desk, giving the old Hat a dirty look. "I just wish I knew _why._"

"Well, there's only one way to find out, isn't there?"

It took Albus a moment to get what Professor Dumbledore was saying, and once it clicked his eyebrows shot up. A few of the other headmasters were also giving Professor Dumbledore a surprised look, but he smiled serenely.

"Am I…_allowed_ to—"

"It's the current Headmistress' decision who is allowed access to Hogwarts artifacts." He turned his head, his eye twinkling again. "But then…_I _won't tell."

Albus hesitated. He glanced back at the door, wondering when Professor Sprout would be back. Then he slowly stood, walking around her desk again. He reached on his tiptoes to take the Hat. It felt odd in his hands, its age and lightness in stark contrast to the mystery it seemed to possess. He glanced back at Professor Dumbledore.

"Go on. Fortunate favors the brave."

Albus took a deep breath, hesitated for a second and then jammed the Sorting Hat onto his head.


	6. Bravery

**Author's Notes:** I went an extra day without an update; I had a lot of homework (which I still put off until the last minute). Sorry.

* * *

Draco Malfoy turned to the other Gryffindors sitting around the fireplace. "Could you leave us alone for a moment, please?"

Most of them shrugged and left. One Muggle-born first-year kept looking at the head in wide-eyed astonishment until her friend gently led her away to explain how Floo Powder worked. Scorpius was perfectly aware of people listening in from behind him, but tried to ignore it.

Scorpius' father turned back to his son, who was standing quite still, trying to ignore the pounding in his chest. "First thing's first. _What_ is that that you're covered in?"

Scorpius was relieved that that was how they were beginning the conversation, but he made a face as he spread his arms out and examined himself. "I don't even know. The school poltergeist—"

"_Ah._ Say no more," his father drawled. "Onto more important matters. You have been at Hogwarts for almost a week. I believe your mother and I spent a good bit of gold getting you a very nice owl. Why haven't you written to us?"

Scorpius looked down at his feet, wondering if his father would believe some lame excuse about having been busy. He instantly decided the answer was no. He shrugged.

"Your mother has been quite worried. _Both_ of us have. We wanted to know if our son was alright."

Scorpius didn't say anything.

"_Are_ you?"

Scorpius' head gave a vague bob. He felt like there was something obstructing his throat. Some of the eavesdroppers were drifting away, having decided that this was just going to be an uninteresting case of parental nagging.

Draco surveyed his son for a long moment, then let his gaze drift to the rest of the room and its red-and-gold furniture. His lip curled a tiny bit, so little Scorpius doubted he was aware of doing it.

"So." His father's tone was neutral. "You are in Gryffindor."

"Yes."

"That is…unexpected."

"I know it's not what you wanted."

Draco's eyebrows raised an iota. He looked at his son, who was looking away. Scorpius' face was slightly red, his eyes distant.

A long moment passed in silence. "Do you have anything to say about this, Scorpius?"

"I'm sorry I didn't live up to your expectations." He meant to sound contrite, but to his own surprise it came out more like a hiss. It caused him a brief panic—he glanced quickly at his father, who seemed as taken aback as he was.

"I will confess that I am…surprised." His father seemed to be proceeding very carefully. "The Malfoys have always been in Slytherin. Most of your mother's family, too. I am…disappointed to hear that you will be a break in that chain."

Scorpius felt his heart beat even quicker, but not from panic this time.

"Son. Talk to me."

His father's tone surprised Scorpius; it was soft, almost pleading. Yet somehow, it didn't comfort Scorpius. Instead it made him want to scream.

"I don't know what you _want_ from me, Father! So I didn't get into your precious Slytherin! I'm _sorry,_ alright?!"

Scorpius regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. His father flinched back and seemed to turn paler, though it was hard to tell with the emerald light reflecting off his face. Scorpius was also acutely aware of the crowd gathering behind him now that the conversation had turned interesting again.

It was a long moment before his father spoke. "I…thought you wanted to be in Slytherin too," he murmured.

Scorpius looked down at the floor. Shame and anger were battling in his stomach. Shame because his father sounded so hurt. Anger because…why, exactly? He was trying to figure that out.

"Father, I—I'm sorry," Scorpius said. He looked back at the dozen or so people milling behind the couch, then got down on his knees, crawling closer to the fireplace so that he could speak more quietly. "But I—never said I wanted to be in Slytherin." He felt like he was forcing the words out, like pulling teeth. "I wanted you and Mother to be happy, but I— just— "

"Scorpius, _speak,_ please. If there's a problem, just say it." His voice was soft again.

Scorpius took a deep breath, trying to arrange his thought. "It's just—I don't know what you and Mother want from me sometimes," Scorpius repeated, his voice too low for anyone but his father to hear. "You've always told me that you wanted me to be—different than you were when you were young, to avoid your—_youthful indiscretions,_ but then you make it sound like I have to get into Slytherin, which everybody _knows_ is full of Dark wizards—"

"Son, just because everybody _says_ that doesn't mean—"

"Father, _listen_ to me!" Scorpius said, his voice hard but also pleading, and his father fell silent. "When I was on the train, there was this—girl who wanted to be a Slytherin, and she hated me immediately because she said _you_ put her father away in Azkaban. And I—" He looked at his father for a long moment, trying to think of some way to say this without hurting him. He didn't think there was one. "I don't want to be put in some sort of club for Death Eater children. Especially if everyone is just going to hate me because my father was a Death Eater _traitor._"

He couldn't stand to look at his father's face, so he stared at the floor, waiting for him to respond.

"...You really feel that badly about Slytherin?" His father's tone was flat.

Scorpius sighed. "I don't know," he admitted. "I know a girl in Slytherin who says it isn't like I thought. And the Gryffindors don't really like me either." He hesitated, and his voice got lower still. "Father…I want to ask you something, and I really need an honest answer."

"Alright," his father said hesitantly.

"During the War…either War…did Grandpa Malfoy ever kill anybody?"

"Son, how could you—"

"_Did he?_"

It was another long moment before his father answered. "I don't know." He sounded worn, defeated—the way Scorpius felt at the moment. Somehow that made his non-answer at least a little comforting.

"Alright. Thank you."

Scorpius heard murmuring behind him; he shot a look over his shoulder again at the onlookers behind the couch. About half of them had the humility to look away in embarrassment. He turned back to his father. "Look—there are people trying to listen in. Can I just—write you about everything else? I swear I will this time," he added quickly, as his father had started to speak. "I just...didn't know how to break the news to you about this. But I'll write you by tomorrow. I swear."

"Alright," his father said quietly. Then, "Scorpius?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

Scorpius' eyes darted over his shoulder again, then back to his father. "I love you too," he murmured more quietly than ever, feeling his face burn.

His father hesitated for another moment like he wanted to say something else, but then disappeared with a loud _POP!_

Scorpius rose to his feet as the green fire turned orange, immediately sweeping away from the fireplace and trying to ignore the eavesdroppers as he walked right past them. He was headed for the portrait hole. He realized he was still covered in green gunk, but didn't care.

"Hey, Scorpius?" one of the onlookers, Nilus Eddine, said as he passed.

Scorpius froze, readying himself for some sort of onslaught. "What?"

"…You okay, man?"

He was caught off-guard, but quickly recovered. "Yes, fine," he said simply, then exited through the portrait hole.

He began to make his way toward the Headmistress' Tower, even though he knew he was late and, for that matter, still filthy. More to the point he felt numb and exhausted. He did not want to be in Gryffindor, he thought, but talking with his father had reminded him of all the reasons he did not want to be in Slytherin either. Would it really be better, like Anita implied? Maybe he should ask the Headmistress to put him in Ravenclaw; he had always been rather studious by nature, asking for little more than books every holiday. Or maybe even Hufflepuff; after all, Albus was the only friend he had made here other than Anita. But then, Albus wanted to be in Gryffindor, so…

He was so lost in these vague and aimless thoughts that he completely failed to notice as James, Gavin and Evan appeared through a secret passageway and began to slowly stalk him down the corridor.

* * *

"Ah. Hello, Albus Potter," the Hat said, speaking with its brim-mouth rather than as a little voice in his ear. "Are you having a good first week of term?"

"_No,_" Albus muttered, pushing the Hat up to try to uncover his eyes. "I want to talk about the house you put me in."

"Hmm. You really are quite a bit like your father, in some ways. _He_ once showed up to grill me about his Sorting as well."

"He did?"

"Yes. Though hewas _happy_ with my choice and wanted my assurance that it had been the correct one. One of many ways that you and him are very different people."

Albus felt wounded. "We're not that different."

"Oh, you are. But that doesn't matter. You're here because you feel cheated—you don't think I give you a choice like I gave him?"

Albus looked sheepish. "Yes."

"Well, you're wrong. In fact, I gave you _exactly_ the same choice as I gave your father."

"Nuh-uh! Dad said that you let him choose Gryffindor, but I—"

"I did no such thing," the Hat interrupted, "and furthermore, that's not even what he told you. He said that if you didn't want to be put you in Slytherin, I wouldn't put you in Slytherin—_and I didn't,_ though as I said it was never really an option in your case. Your father had a preference for Gryffindor, but I didn't let him choose that. I just removed Slytherin from the table and went with the other best option."

Albus froze, letting that sink in. Is that what his father had told him? Or had he misunderstood?

"But—you let other people pick. Like Rose and Scorpius."

"Your cousin was also fairly balanced," the Hat said breezily, "and as you know, she did not really have a preference. As for Scorpius Malfoy…well. He made quite a compelling case for himself, didn't he? Actually, _he_ reminds me a bit more of your father—they wound up in Gryffindor for the same general reasons."

"Huh?"

"Your father rejected Slytherin because he had heard that it was 'the evil House.' Scorpius Malfoy believed the same thing. Now, I hasten to voice my objection to that—whatever their faults, Salazar and his House have always had their virtues—but in any event: both your father and Scorpius Malfoy went with what they thought was right. And, in the latter case, he did so in violation of tradition and his parents' wishes. It was a rash decision, but it was a _brave_ one, too, asking for Gryffindor. I had no choice but to honor it." The Hat paused. "Quite different from the way that _you_ asked, I'm afraid."

Albus felt like he had been kicked in the stomach. "What do you mean?" He tried to sound defensive but heard a quiver in his voice.

"During the Sorting, I asked you why you wanted to be put in Gryffindor. What did you say?"

"I—I don't remember!"

"You said, and I quote, that you wanted to be a Gryffindor because _'that's where my whole family is.'_ And then, only with much prompting, that you wanted to be _brave._"

"So?!"

"As I said, you and your father are very different in both personality and upbringing. Your father had a, shall we say, _strained_ relationship with his guardians that gave him a marked independent streak. Thankfully, he and your mother have managed to give you a far happier childhood...but, combined with other factors and your own natural personality, this has turned you more _codependent_ than anything."

"I—that's not true!"

"How can you tell, you don't even know what that word means," the Hat said cheekily. "Let me clarify: you care for your family, deeply. (Which is a good Hufflepuff trait, by the way.) But you are _too_ attached to them. Which is understandable," it said, as Albus had been about to speak. "You are young, after all. But the only reason you asked to be put in Gryffindor was because of them. Because it was _their_ house and _their_ legacy."

"So what?!" Albus repeated. He was having a hard time following this debate, and that only made him more frustrated as he continued to lose it. "What's wrong with wanting to be with James and my cousins?!"

"I must concur with my young namesake here," Professor Dumbledore said. Albus jumped; he had forgotten that he and the other portraits were still in the room, listening in. "Harry and Scorpius both chose the path that they believed would lead to bravery. Was Albus' request fundamentally different?"

"It was, Headmaster," the Hat said, before turning around to look down at Albus again. "You want to be brave—I can tell that. But that was not your primary motivation. You simply want to be with your relatives—or, more to the point: you're _afraid _to be separated from them, or of being _different_ from them. Your father and Scorpius Malfoy thought of Gryffindor as a 'path to bravery,' but you, Albus Potter, were focused on pleasing others. It was a decision based on fear, not bravery, and thus failed to demonstrate the proper Gryffindor qualities." It turned back to Professor Dumbledore. "Are we in agreement about that, Headmaster?"

Professor Dumbledore deliberated for a long moment. "I can see the logic of your argument, certainly."

"But that's not fair!" Albus exploded. "What are you saying, that— " His lip quivered. "That I can't _ever_ be brave? I'm just so much of a coward that no matter _what_ I do it's for the wrong reason?"

"Of _course _not, Albus Potter," the Hat said. It had dropped the mocking tone and now sounded both kindly and irritated. "After all, your Uncle Neville asked to be put in Hufflepuff because of his own fear. You consider him to be a brave man, correct?"

"Well, yeah," Albus muttered, wiping his eye with his sleeve. "I mean, when Voldemort took over the Ministry he—"

He froze as a thought occurred to him. The Hat sagged on his head. "Oh, boy. I know where this is going."

"_Good,_" Albus snapped, "because explain that, huh?! Uncle Neville chose his House because he didn't think he was good enough to be a Gryffindor—because he was _afraid—_but you _still_ put him in the brave House instead! Maybe if you put _me_ in Gryffindor, _I_ could grow up to be brave and fight Death Eaters and everything like that!"

"A-ha!" Professor Dumbledore said cheerfully, tenting his long fingers and leaning back in his frame. "An excellent point! And how do you explain that, old friend?"

The Hat glared at him, then grunted in annoyance. "You know, this isn't an exact science. You think it's easy, fitting every person you meet into four neat little boxes?" It sighed. "Again, Albus Potter and Neville Longbottom are different people in different circumstances. Neville Longbottom had an unusual amount of courage that was merely buried; I hoped that being around other brave people would help to bring it out."

"Then put me in Gryffindor! Everyone in my family is brave, so I—"

"—would only feel inadequate next to them. Don't lie—you already did, _before _I Sorted you, and you've only felt less adequate since. Different virtues come easier or harder to different people, and bravery is just not one that comes easily to you, Albus Potter. They would only make you _less_ brave the more you try to measure yourself beside them. Here," it said, sensing Albus' confusion. "Let me give you a more concrete example: _James._"

The Hat's tone made Albus blink. "What's wrong with James?!" he asked indignantly.

"You spent the whole trip to Hogwarts terrified because he was playing on your fears about getting into Slytherin," the Hat said. "Just this morning he did the same thing with your insecurity about being in Hufflepuff."

"Well…yeah." Albus couldn't really argue with that point. "But he's not that bad!"

"He causes you more anxiety and fear than anything else I can see in your head. Do you really think you could become braver if you were with him _all the time?_"

"But I…want to be brave _like_ him. How else am I suppose to, I don't know—learn to become brave, like Uncle Neville did?"

"Bravery is not about doing what other people want you to do—it's about doing what you think is right, no matter what. You will, frankly, be braver outside of Gryffindor than within it. And more to the point, you will be able to develop the virtues that come to you more naturally. What do you think of Severus Snape?" the Hat asked suddenly.

"What?" Albus hesitated, looking nervously at his empty picture frame. "Well I—I'm not sure."

"You've heard your father say he did amazing, brave things during the Wars. Now you've met him. Did he act the way you expected him too?"

"He was…kind of harsh," Albus admitted.

"Yes. Severus Snape, you understand, could be heroic, sneaky, intelligent— but rarely kind. Your father admires his courage, but ask him for a happy memory of Severus Snape and I bet you he comes up empty. Do you know I started considering you for Hufflepuff before I even went on your head?"

"Huh?" Albus was having a hard time following as the Hat jumped from subject to subject. "When?"

"When Scorpius Malfoy put me on. I saw in his mind that a boy named Albus had told him to ask for what House he wanted. You saw that he was scared and tried to help him. Why did you do that?"

"I don't—know." Albus wasn't sure how one could answer a question like that. "He just…seemed nervous is all. And I was nervous too, so I felt…like it was the right thing to do—"

"_Bingo,_ m'boy." The Hat sounded quite pleased. "It was small, but it was the right thing to do. It was a _kind _thing to do. And it was a very _Hufflepuff_ thing to do."

"It was the sort of thing anyone would do."

"You'd be surprised. Most people would have been too worried about themselves to think of it. Some prospective Gryffindors would have considered a prospective Slytherin an enemy out of hand. It was the sort of thing anyone _could_ do, but the greatest acts of kindness often are."

Albus squirmed. "But can't I be brave as well as kind?"

"Of course. Louis is brave because he ignores the people who tease him and makes friends who won't. _You_ were brave, in a way, by helping an apparent Slytherin-to-be get into the House they wanted. And besides," it laughed, "do you think you'll start losing House points if you're not meek and cowardly like a good Hufflepuff should be? You can become a very brave Hufflepuff if you want."

Albus frowned; he was feeling less depressed and angry now, and more just defeated. "Can't I be a kind Gryffindor instead?"

"What's the difference?"

Albus was trying to think of an answer when the door suddenly opened; Professor Sprout came in, her clothes dirty, disheveled and smoking slightly. Albus let out a strangled cry and threw the Hat back on the shelf, only for it to fall immediately onto the floor. The Headmistress stared.

"Albus? What are you doing?"

"Er—"

"I certainly didn't see anything," Professor Dumbledore said, taking serene interest in the top of his frame.

* * *

**A/N:** You know how every book has that "Dumbledore Explains It All" chapter? This is that, except the Sorting Hat has demoted Dumbledore to a side character.

The seventh and final chapter should be up soon! In the meantime, please review!


	7. Kindness

Albus slowly made his way back toward the Hufflepuff Common Room, unsure what to think anymore.

Why _had_ he wanted to be in Gryffindor? Was it really just because he was afraid of what other people would think of him? Albus didn't like the idea that he was some kind of scaredy-cat; he wanted to be brave, like his dad and mum and everyone else in his family. Part of what the Hat said made him feel awful, like he really _was_ a coward, just in a new way that he had never even realized before.

But then, Uncle Neville had been the same way. Albus still wasn't sure why he got to be a Gryffindor while he was a Hufflepuff, but…maybe being a Hufflepuff wasn't so bad? Professor Sprout seemed nice, after all. And neither the Hat nor Professor Dumbledore seemed to consider Hufflepuff a bad house. Neither had Hagrid or Uncle Neville, and if Uncle Neville was a Gryffindor-but-almost-a-Hufflepuff then being a Hufflepuff-but-not-quite-a-Gryffindor wasn't such a big deal.

But then, on the other hand—

"_Let me down, you—you—_"

Albus turned the corner and was struck by an unexpected sight—Scorpius Malfoy, covered in something foul-looking, suspended two feet off the ground as if some invisible hand were yanking him up by the back of his robes. Behind him on the ground were James and his friends Gavin and Evan, snickering together. James was holding a cardboard cylinder in his hand—one of Uncle George's Wedgies-In-A-Can, recognizable instantly from the Weasley Wizard Wheezes label.

"Hey! What are you doing?!"

James and his friends looked up, startled, then relaxed as they saw Albus running toward them. "Oh, it's just you. We're just _hanging_ with our new first-year friend, that's all."

Scorpius growled. He fumbled in his pocket and tried to pull out a wand, though what he could do with it he wasn't sure; James noticed and jerked the canister, causing Scorpius to jolt upward and drop his wand to the floor. Gavin snickered.

"Let him down, James!"

He quirked an eyebrow. "Why should I?" It sounded less like a threat and more like he was legitimately curious about Albus' objection. Albus wasn't sure if it was possible to reason with his brother, but he struggled to find something that could convince him.

"Well, why should you be picking on him in the first place, huh? What did he do to you?"

"He got _Death Eater_ stink all over our Common Room," Gavin sneered.

"Oh, judging people because of their parents. _That's_ not something a Death Eater would ever do."

Albus was as surprised as anyone to hear those words come out of his mouth. James' eyes twitched, then turned hard. He pushed Albus on the shoulder, gently, with his free hand. "Why don't you go _badger_ somebody else?" he grumbled. From his tone Albus couldn't help but feel that his comment had gotten to him.

"No! Not until you put Scorpius down!"

"Oh, you know him?" James said, giving the canister another shake (_"OW! STOP THAT!"_) "Is he your _boyfriend?_"

Albus felt tears of frustration come into his eyes, but he tried to push them back so that he could think. "Put him down or I'll—I'll—tell Victoire on you!"

"_Ooooh,_ maybe she'll give me detention or something."

"Well then I'll—write home to Mum!"

James scoffed. "You won't even write home to tell Mum you're in the wrong House. Besides, what's she gonna do? Ground me from four hundred miles away?"

"Then I'll—I'll—" Albus suddenly remembered what Victoire had said earlier. "_Write Grandma Weasley!_"

"You wouldn't dare." James' eyes narrowed, but betrayed a look of genuine fear.

Albus flashed an uncharacteristically vicious smile, then began to mime writing on his hand. "_Dear Grandma Molly, James has been picking on me and my friend Scorpius. Victoire says you have a stack of Howlers—_"

"Alright, alright!" James snapped; he was having an unpleasant flashback to what had happened after last year's Exploding Gobstones Massacre. He took a lid out of his robes and popped it back on the canister; Scorpius instantly fell to the floor, cursing loudly as he landed. Then, shooting Albus a nasty look, James and his friends stalked off muttering to themselves.

"Are you alright?" Albus asked, as Scorpius climbed to his feet and examined his wand for damage.

"Nothing hurt but my pride, I suppose."

"I'm sorry." He made a face at the green stuff all over him. "What did they _do_ to you?"

Scorpius spread his arms and grimaced. "_This_ was actually that bloody poltergeist. I suppose you could say I'm having a bad day." He glanced down the corridor the way that Albus had come. "I assume that you being here means our meeting with the Headmistress is over?"

"Yeah. I'm sorry. I'm sure you can schedule another one, but I'm not sure it will do much good. She wouldn't change my House, at least."

Scorpius frowned. "Maybe." The two started walking down the corridor, though neither really had any destination in mind. "I'm not quite sure what I want to do about that, to be honest. I never really wanted to be in Slytherin, but I'm not sure if Gryffindor is any better. Especially with your brother and his friends there. No offense."

"None taken." Albus kicked thoughtfully at the floor. "I would stay in Gryffindor, if I were you. And not just because it's the House I wanted to go to," he added. "I think it's a good House for you."

"Really?" Scorpius gave him a sideways look. "Why?"

Albus hesitated, unsure if he should mention his conversation with the Hat and the fact that they had been talking about him. "You seem pretty brave to me. You'd have to be, to choose Gryffindor when you knew your parents wouldn't like it. And besides," Albus couldn't help but grin a little, "James might stop bugging you now."

"Maybe," Scorpius repeated. Then, after a silence that felt awkward to him, "Thank you for standing up for me, by the way."

"It was nothing."

"I wish it wasn't," Scorpius muttered. "Unfortunately, not many people here have shown me that sort of kindness."

_Kindness._ Albus stopped walking, sending his mind back to the conversation with the Sorting Hat. And then, just a beat after he realized: he had stood up to _James._ Weren't people always telling him he needed to do that? He could never do that when James was picking on him, but somehow it seemed easier when Scorpius was the one hanging up in the air.

"Albus?" Scorpius said, glancing back at him. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah. Fine, actually." And indeed, he was smiling again as he said it.

* * *

Nilus stuck his head into the first-year dormitory, where Scorpius was sitting on his bed with a collection of parchments. "Hey—you doing homework?"

"Writing to my parents, actually."

"Oh." Nilus looked slightly sheepish. Scorpius had been expecting mockery for the scene he and his father caused earlier, but most of those who had witnessed it just seemed embarrassed for him. Which was _a little _better, he supposed. "Well, we're having a sort of party out here to celebrate the first week of term. Some of the fifth-years nicked desserts from the kitchen if you're interested."

Scorpius was not really one for parties, but the word "desserts" perked him up a bit. "Thank you. I'll be out in a minute."

Nilus left, and Scorpius turned his attention back to his work. He had spent nearly an hour writing the first draft of his letter, which was so full of cuts and additions that he had finally copied what he wanted down onto a cleaner parchment. It had been difficult, trying to say what he wanted without letting anything hurtful get through, but also oddly cathartic. He still was not sure if he was happy to be in Gryffindor, but he felt calmer and less muddled about the issue, somehow.

He went down into the Common Room expecting to just grab some pastries and leave, but Nilus and his friends invited him to play Exploded Snap. They soon discovered that Scorpius was rather good at that game, having played it many times with his Grandpa Greengrass. Before he knew it the clock had struck 11 PM, and Scorpius was smirking as he won his ninth round.

* * *

Albus got up early on Sunday morning to write his own letter home. He also spent a long time on it, even though the results were a lot less elaborate.

_Dear Mum and Dad,_

_I'm sorry I haven't written before now. I was Sorted into Hufflepuff, and I guess I was sort of afraid to tell you. But I think I'm okay now. I'm still sort of sad that I can't be with Rose or any of the others. James was bugging me about it, but I'm going to try not to let that bother me anymore._

_I hope you guys weren't too worried about me. Tell Lily and Teddy I said hi._

_Sincerely,_

_Al_

He hesitated, wondering if there was anything else he wanted to say. After a moment of reflection he added:

_P.S.: I met the portraits of Albus Dumbledore and Severus Snape who live in the Headmistress' office. And no offense, Dad, but even if he was the bravest man you ever met, I sort of wish you had decided to name me after somebody nicer. _

* * *

Louis had decided to sleep in that morning, so Albus decided to go down to breakfast by himself for the first time. He glanced at the window every few moments, anxious for the mail owls to arrive. He _was_ still afraid of telling his parents about Hufflepuff—as much as he hated to admit it—but once his letter was in the air the matter would be out of his hands, with no opportunity to chicken out of sending it. That would give him some measure of relief even as he worried about their possible response.

Finally the owls arrived, and Albus had his letter out as soon as Stripe landed on the table beside him. "Here ya go," he whispered, attaching the envelope to his leg. "Bring this to Mum and Dad, alright? And try to hurry if you can." He stroked Stripe's head and slipped a bit of bacon into his beak. "Go on, now."

Stripe let out a whistle and flew away. Albus let out a slow breath. When he looked back at the table he noticed Joshua McNamara eying him. He stiffened nervously.

"Sorry, I don't mean to stare," he said quickly, looking away. "I just wish I had brought a bird with me. I told my mum I'd write her every week, but I just sort of assumed the school had normal post."

"Oh." Albus cast a brief look back at the window, then turned back to Joshua. "There are school owls you can borrow, you know."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I think you just go down to the Owlery and pick one out."

"Owlery?" He frowned. "Where's that?"

"I'm not sure," he admitted. Then, after a moment's thought, "But I can help you find it after breakfast, I guess. I'm sure one of my older cousins would know where it is."

Joshua grinned. "Oh, good. I swear, I can't make heads or tails of where anything is in this school." Then, a bit more sheepishly, "Actually, I can't seem to make heads or tails of _anything_ around here. I'm from a normal—er, non-magical family, and—this place is kind of a big change for me, I guess."

Albus looked down at his food, squaring his shoulders awkwardly. "I know what you mean," he admitted. "I mean—I _am_ from a Wizarding family, but Hogwarts turned out to be a lot different than I expected."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

The two of them lapsed into silence. Albus was trying to figure out if their conversation was over when Joshua spoke.

"Well, everybody I've met seems alright, at least. Though I haven't really talked with anyone outside our House yet."

"Everyone in my family belong to other houses. Well, except for my cousin Louis." Albus briefly glanced at the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables. He tried to pick the familiar faces out of the crowd, but none of them were clearly visible from where he was sitting.

"Oh," Joshua said again. "Well, I hope the other three are as friendly as all the Hufflepuffs have been."

Albus gave up looking, shrugging as he turned back to Joshua. "I think they're all friendly, for the most part," he said. And then, with a small smile "But nobody's as friendly as us Hufflepuffs."

* * *

At the Slytherin table Anita was having an animated conversation with Charmian, who was explaining the rules of Quidditch with uncharacteristic excitement. Ludmilla watched them, looking slightly bored. Gallia Goyle sat by herself, shooting people nasty looks while they mostly ignored her.

Rose was discussing the first week's classes with a few of her fellow Ravenclaws. She was butting heads with one over who was more ridiculous, Professor Selwyn with his weird trilling thing or Professor Myerson, who had accidentally caught her sleeve on fire during their first Potion's class. They eventually agreed it was a draw and started to complain about Professor Binns instead.

Scorpius Malfoy had finally opened the Chocolate Frogs that his grandfather had sent and was sharing them with the rest of the Gryffindor first-years. Nilus had gotten a Neville Longbottom card, which was causing something of a stir. ("Our Herbology teacher once led an army against a giant evil snake?!") Down the bench Scorpius was getting glares from Gavin, James was grousing about Albus, and Evan was trying to figure out how many Harry Potter cards a Neville Longbottom was worth.

Albus and Joshua were discussing what they wanted to do that day. Neither of them really had any good ideas, but they seemed to have unconsciously decided to do it together. It wasn't until halfway through the conversation that Albus realized he had forgotten to be anxious about his letter or his cousins or _something,_ and by that point Louis had arrived and Albus remembered to ask him about helping them find the Owlery. Then he got distracted again when Joshua asked if he needed stamps.

All was well.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** I hope this ending doesn't seem rushed; a few reviewers seemed to expect more chapters, but really there's not much to conclude for this story except "they realized their Houses were pretty good and managed to make some friends in them." The other plot threads are kind of supposed to be open-ended.

Anyway, thanks so much to everyone, and please leave any final comments! I hope to write more _Harry Potter_ fics soon, especially with the Next Gen, so look out for those if you liked this.


	8. BONUS: The Map and the Letters

**Author's Notes:** I thought it would be interesting to see this story from Harry and Ginny's point of view. Hopefully this is funny/insightful enough to justify writing it/no longer having "the most powerfully magical number" of chapters.

I don't think Ted Tonks has a canon House, but fanon seems to put him in Hufflepuff.

* * *

The door to Harry's study was ajar, and Ginny knocked lightly before sticking her head in. "Harry? It's almost time for dinner."

He jumped before turning, a slightly awkward smile on his face. "Be right there, dear. Just—finishing up a bit of paperwork."

She quirked her eyebrow, entering the room. "Oh, surely that can wait until later, can't it? You don't want your food to get cold."

"Well, it's—just a bit urgent, and—er—"

Harry quickly tried to hide the parchment, but Ginny's hand shot out and pinned it to the desk before he had a chance. The Marauder's Map showed the whole of Hogwarts, with nearly all of its dots assembled in the Great Hall for the Sorting. The tables were so filled with names that they were almost impossible to read, but a small group of first-year dots were clearly visible before one that read _The Sorting Hat_. Ginny gave her husband a look, and he grinned back guiltily.

"Alright, I know I shouldn't be checking up on them this soon. But I—"

"Shut up. Has he been Sorted yet?"

His grin widened. "Not yet," he said, as they both leaned down and stared avidly at the Map. "We're on..._Thomas Murray _now. Al's here," he added, pointing with his wand. "Wait—okay, Thomas Murray just went off toward...Ravenclaw, I think_..._"

"Did I miss anyone interesting? What about the Malfoy boy?"

"He got into _Gryffindor,_ if you can believe it."

"Ha! Maybe he and Al will be dorm-mates. Then they can continue that lovely friendship that you and old Draco had."

The pair watched anxiously through _Ludmilla_ _Neff_ (Slytherin),_ Ian Orptington_ (Hufflepuff) and_ Elijah Patterson _(Gryffindor) before Albus' dot finally moved forward. They both sucked in a breath.

"Watch him be a Slytherin," Ginny said, trying to relieve the tension. "Just to surprise us."

"Yes. Al's actually been a morally-ambiguous Pureblood supremacist all these years and just managed to hide it from us."

"Because he's got that Slytherin sneakiness."

They both jumped as Albus' dot moved again. And it was heading towards...

"Is that—_Hufflepuff?_"

"It must be. Look—there's Louis." Ginny looked at her husband, who was staring blankly. "Come on—surely you realized that Gryffindor and Slytherin weren't his only options?"

"I know, but—I gave him that whole speech about how the Hat listens to you. Do you supposed he asked it for this?"

"I'm not sure," Ginny said, frowning. Then she shrugged. "It fits him, though. He's always been such a sweet boy."

"Well, yes—definitely." Harry was still a bit puzzled, but he found the idea unexpectedly agreeable—he took a moment to ponder Albus grinning in a set of bright-yellow Quidditch robes. "Do you think we should keep watching for when Rose gets Sorted, or—?"

"MUM!" Lily said, sticking her head into the room and causing both of her parents to jump. "The oven is smoking!"

"What? Oh—Merlin's pants!" Ginny said, rushing to the kitchen and leaving her husband to watch for their niece alone.

* * *

Before going to bed Harry decided to write both of his sons a letter, though he and Ginny agreed not to mention their inside knowledge of the Sorting. (After all, he didn't want the boys to think he was spying on them, even if he was.) To Albus he wrote _we're sure that the Sorting turned out better than you expected. Please write as soon as you can to tell us where you turned up. And remember—we're proud of you no matter what. _He figured it was vague enough to sound like he was still writing about Slytherin, but would also help in case Albus really was disappointed about not getting into Gryffindor.

He added something to James' letter too: _Wherever Al ended up, please don't give him a hard time about it. Try to remember how you felt last year when you were adjusting to life at school._

"Do you really think he's going to listen to that?"

"Well..._no,_" Harry admitted. "But it couldn't hurt."

* * *

"Ron, leave him alone," Hermione said.

"No, come on, mate," Ron urged, prodding Harry annoyingly. "I _know_ you were watching on that bleeding Map of yours! Now come on, tell me!"

"Even if I was, couldn't you just wait a few hours until Rose sends you a letter?"

"_You_ could have waited an extra day. Now come on! She's a Gryffindor, right? Chip off the old block?"

Harry grinned cheekily. "And what if she's not? What if I told you she got into Slytherin?"

"I'll _kill_ you."

"Ron!" Hermione gave him a look, then turned back around. After a moment she frowned.

"Rose didn't..._really_ get into Slytherin, did she, Harry?"

He rolled his eyes as the doors of the lift opened on their floor.

* * *

Harry was reading the _Prophet_ in bed that night when Ginny came in, frowning. "We got a letter," she said, holding it up. "From Neville."

"Oh?" He lowered the paper warily. "You don't sound like it's good news."

"He had a talk with Al today. I'm guessing he _didn't_ ask the Hat for Hufflepuff, because apparently he was quite upset about it. He seems to think that going anywhere but Gryffindor proves that he's a coward."

"What?! Let me see that."

Ginny handed over the letter; Harry read it twice before looking up. "We haven't gotten a letter from Al yet, have we?"

"No," Ginny murmured. They had had Ron and Hermione over for dinner, and the two were quite happy after receiving a note from Rose. ("Should have known she'd be a Ravenclaw! I always said she was a genius, just like her mum.") "And Neville doesn't want us to tell him that he wrote us."

"No." Harry hesitated for a moment. "Should we write to him again?"

"...No. If we seem like we're pestering him, it might make him feel worse," Ginny said slowly. "Let's give him a few days. By then he should calm down and feel ready to tell us on his own."

"I hope so."

* * *

They didn't get anything from Albus on Tuesday, though they did get a letter from James. _P.S.: Al got into Hufflepuff. I always knew he was a dork._ Harry responded by telling him that he better be nice to his brother or he would have Grandma Molly send him another Howler.

He hesitated for a moment, wondering if he should write Albus another letter too. He wasn't sure if Ginny's idea was right...it would be a good idea for James or Lily, maybe, but Albus had always been a bit more sensitive. Maybe he needed some extra encouragement? But then, there was no way to really offer it without admitting they knew his problem, and that might upset him more...

Finally Harry decided against it, then looked around for their owl. "Ginny, have you seen Brocard? I need him to send this letter to James."

"Oh. I'm sorry. I just sent him out."

Something about the way she said it made Harry pause. "Where?"

"...To Hogwarts, with a letter for Al."

He quirked an eyebrow. "I thought we were giving him space?"

"I know, but he's so _sensitive!_"

* * *

"I can't believe Albus got into _Hufflepuff!_" Lily said, making a face.

Ginny gave her a look that reminded Harry very much of his mother-in-law. "And what's wrong with Hufflepuff? Louis is a Hufflepuff. Your Aunt Hannah was a Hufflepuff. As was Teddy's mum," she added, motioning to her godson as he piled mashed potatoes on his plate.

"And my granddad. The Hat seriously thought of putting _me_ there, too. Said I was 'affable.'"

"But that's the House for losers!"

"You listen to James so much," Harry said, giving Lily his own, much less potent stare. "Now eat your peas."

"I'm surprised Al's so upset about this, to be honest," Teddy said. "I'd think if nothing else he'd be happy to get away from James' pranks. Do you want me to write to him? Maybe he'd feel better, you know, talking to someone more on his level."

"Maybe," Harry said. "But we don't want to dog-pile him—if the whole family gets in on this it will just seem like a bigger deal than it is. I've thought of writing to Louis, though, see if he can keep an eye on him for us."

Lily decided she was bored of this conversation and decided to change the subject. "So, Teddy—if you and Victoire got married by this summer, how long do you think it would be before you had a baby?"

He responded by spitting butterbeer all over his food.

* * *

Harry and Ginny didn't get any word from Albus on Thursday. On Friday, they got a letter from James, pointedly not mentioning Albus or Harry's order to be nice to him.

"You know what I should have done?" Harry said suddenly as he and Ron were eating lunch. "I should have written to _Hagrid._ Al's supposed to meet him this afternoon, maybe he could say something to cheer him up."

"I still say you should just write and _tell_ Al that you know what's going on," Ron said, shrugging.

"Easy for you to say. You know, I'm sure all your talk about disowning Rose didn't help his confidence."

"Well, when I _didn't_ disown Rose he should have taken a hint!"

That afternoon, when Harry was safely locked in his office, he took the Marauder's Map out of his pocket and began to scan it for Albus. He had done this several times in the previous week, but it never told him much—he was usually just in class or the Hufflepuff Common Room. This time, however, he was in Hagrid's hut...

...next to Scorpius Malfoy?

Harry blinked, trying to imagine himself and Draco Malfoy as children, having a casual teatime around Hagrid's rough, wooden table. He kept watching until they left together a few minutes later, only separating when they got to the Great Hall and joined their respective Houses.

That night they got a letter from Hagrid. "Albus asked him if he could get his House changed. Hagrid arranged a meeting with Professor Sprout, but he doesn't think she'll go for it. Also, apparently Al and Scorpius Malfoy are best mates, but James has made Scorpius his personal punching bag."

Harry's tone was dry. "I'm very disappointed in at least _one _of our sons, but I'm not entirely sure which."

* * *

"I'm not being obsessive," Harry said, staring at the Marauder's Map again on Saturday.

"Of course not, mate."

"There—there! He's finally going up into Sprout's office."

"You realize the Map won't let you see what she's saying to him, right?"

"Shut up, Ron."

After a while he forced himself to stop watching, then checked again an hour later. By then Sprout was alone in her office and Albus' dot was walking besides the dot labeled _Scorpius Malfoy_ again. When the pair separated Scorpius headed for a bathroom while Albus went back to the Hufflepuff Common Room, where he stayed until dinnertime.

Apparently Albus was staying where he was. Harry just wish he knew whether that was good or bad.

* * *

_Dear Aunt Ginny and Uncle Harry,_

_James is apparently being a prat to Albus. Also the sky was blue today, not sure if you've heard._

_Your niece,_

_Victoire_

* * *

Ginny grimaced as she made breakfast on Sunday morning. "Remember what I said about giving Albus space? Well, it turns out that was stupid. If he doesn't write by the end of the day, I am."

"Don't bother. If he doesn't write by tonight, I'll Floo my head into the Hufflepuff Common Room."

"Alright, now _that_ would be humiliating." She paused. "Though I'm not saying a definite 'no.'"

They got a letter from Albus around lunchtime. Harry sat on the edge of his seat as Ginny read.

"'_...think I'm okay now. I'm still sort of sad that I can't be with Rose...'_ He said James was bugging him, but he isn't going to let it bother him anymore." Ginny's face suddenly broke into a weary grin. "Well, _that's_ progress! Hufflepuff seems to be bringing out his Gryffindor courage after all."

Harry got up, reading over her shoulder. "Does it say anything else?"

"Uh, let's see—oh, it says he met Dumbledore and Snape in the Headmistress' office, and that he hates his middle name now."

Harry blanched. Ginny blinked, and then rounded on her husband, giving him a light smack in the shoulder. "See, I _told_ you! We should have gone with 'Neville!'"

"Look, I love Neville, but his name is terrible."

"But you're okay with _'Severus?!'_"

"_I_ said we should have gone with 'Ronald!'"

"Oh, sure, inflate his head_ more,_ why don't we?"

* * *

They wanted their reply to be comforting and insightful, but that turned out to be harder when Albus seemed to be on the right path himself. Finally they just wrote that they thought he was as kind and loyal as any Hufflepuff they could think of, that they were sure he would be happy in his new House, and to remember that they and the rest of the family would always be there for them, whether they were across the Great Hall or an owl away.

In a few days they received another letter that was even more optimistic. Albus apparently had made several new friends, the foremost being Scorpius and a fellow Hufflepuff named Joshua, and he loved most of his classes. Ginny sighed with relief.

"I knew we were overreacting. Remember last year with James? Three tear-stained notes in the first week, but by the second he hardly wanted to come home for Christmas anymore."

"Hmm." Harry's eyes were on the Map as she spoke, watching Albus' dot glide into the Great Hall between Scorpius' and Rose's. Once alone at the Hufflepuff table he was joined by _Joshua McNamara,_ and Harry tried to imagine his son and another boy avidly talking about classes and Quidditch.

"_Mischief managed,_" he said, wiping the Map clean. To Ginny he said "You're right, dear—I think Albus will be just fine."


End file.
